My iPad Is My Lifeline to the Grandkids. It Was Also Destroying My Neck.
How one retired librarian found a way to stay connected without paying the price every morning
Margaret Chen never considered herself a “tech person.” For 34 years, she catalogued books by hand, typed on actual typewriters, and thought email was a passing fad.
Then her daughter moved to Seattle. Then her son took a job in London. And suddenly, at 71 years old, Margaret became the kind of grandmother who checks her iPad before breakfast.
FaceTime calls with her granddaughter learning to read. YouTube videos her grandson sends of his football matches. The family group chat that pings throughout the day with photos, jokes, and the small updates that make 3,000 miles feel like 3 blocks.
“That little screen became my window to everyone I love,” Margaret says. “I wasn’t about to give that up.”
But her neck had other plans.
The Pain Started So Gradually She Almost Didn't Notice
At first, it was just stiffness in the morning. A little tightness at the base of her skull that loosened up after her first cup of tea.
Then the stiffness started lasting until lunch. Then dinner. Then it stopped leaving at all.
“I’d wake up and it felt like someone had their hands wrapped around the back of my neck, squeezing,” Margaret remembers. “Some mornings I couldn’t turn my head to check the clock.”
Her doctor had a name for it: “tech neck.” The same condition plaguing teenagers was now showing up in his older patients—people who’d discovered tablets and smartphones later in life and now spent hours each day looking down at screens.
The mechanics are simple and brutal. The human head weighs roughly 10-12 pounds. When it’s balanced directly over the spine, the neck supports that weight easily. But for every inch the head tilts forward—looking down at a screen, for instance—the effective weight on the cervical spine increases dramatically. At a 45-degree angle, typical for tablet use, the neck experiences nearly 50 pounds of force.
Do that for an hour while video-chatting with grandchildren. Do it for another hour reading the news. Another hour playing word games before bed.
Day after day, week after week, year after year.
“I was essentially giving myself whiplash in slow motion,” Margaret says. “And I had no idea.”
She Tried Everything the Internet Suggested
Margaret wasn’t the type to accept defeat. She’d raised three children while working full-time, survived a difficult divorce, and built a life she was proud of. A sore neck wasn’t going to stop her from seeing her grandchildren’s faces.
First came the ergonomic accessories. A tablet stand that propped the screen at eye level. A special pillow that promised “cervical support.” A foam roller she watched a YouTube video about and used exactly twice before it ended up in the closet.
Then came the professionals. A chiropractor who cracked her neck twice a week at $75 a visit. A physical therapist who gave her exercises she kept forgetting to do. A massage therapist who provided temporary relief that evaporated by the next morning.
“I was spending more on my neck than on groceries,” Margaret says. “And nothing was actually fixing the problem.”
The massage felt wonderful—for about six hours. The chiropractor adjustments helped—until they didn’t. The exercises probably would have worked if she’d remembered to do them consistently, but life kept getting in the way.
Meanwhile, the pain was getting worse. What started as stiffness had evolved into something sharper. Shooting sensations down her right arm. Headaches that started at the base of her skull and wrapped around to her temples. Numbness in her fingers that made her worry about something more serious.
Her doctor ordered an MRI. The results showed exactly what he expected: compressed discs in her cervical spine, likely from years of poor posture made dramatically worse by recent tablet use.
His recommendation: continue physical therapy, consider steroid injections, and—if things didn’t improve—they should “have a conversation about surgical options.”
Margaret went home that day and cried. Not because of the diagnosis, but because of what it might mean.
“I thought about having to tell my granddaughter I couldn’t FaceTime anymore because it hurt too much,” she says. “That felt worse than the pain itself.”
The Thing That Actually Worked Was Simpler Than She Expected
Margaret’s breakthrough came from an unlikely source: her physical therapist’s waiting room.
She’d arrived early for an appointment and struck up a conversation with another patient, a retired contractor named Bill who was there for a shoulder issue. When Margaret mentioned her neck problems, Bill’s eyes lit up.
“He told me he’d had the same thing for years,” Margaret recalls. “Tech neck, pinched nerves, the whole situation. Then he started using something at home—some kind of traction device that hangs over a door—and within a few weeks, he felt like a different person.”
Bill couldn’t remember the exact name, but he described it well enough that Margaret could find something similar online. A cervical traction system that hooks over any standard door, with a fabric hammock that cradles the head and neck, and adjustable straps that let you control exactly how much stretch you’re getting.
The concept wasn’t new. Cervical traction has been used by physical therapists and chiropractors for decades. The idea is simple: gently stretch the neck to create space between the vertebrae, taking pressure off compressed discs and pinched nerves while allowing blood flow to reach tight muscles.
What was new—at least to Margaret—was the idea that she could do this herself, at home, whenever she needed it.
“I was skeptical,” she admits. “I’d tried so many things by that point. But it was less than what I was paying for two chiropractor visits, and it came with a money-back guarantee. I figured I had nothing to lose.”
The device arrived three days later. Setting it up took about thirty seconds—hook it over the door, adjust the straps, sit down, and lean back.
The first session lasted exactly eight minutes. Margaret was nervous about overdoing it, so she kept the traction gentle and the time short.
“But even in those eight minutes, I felt something I hadn’t felt in months,” she says. “Space. Like my neck could finally breathe.”
What 15 Minutes Each Morning Actually Feels Like
Margaret has now been using cervical traction consistently for four months. Her routine is simple: 15 minutes every morning, right after she finishes her tea.
She hooks the device over her bedroom door—the one that leads to the bathroom, which she passes anyway—and settles into what she calls her “stretch.”
“It feels like someone very gently pulling your head away from your shoulders,” she explains. “Not aggressive at all. More like… being untangled. Like when you finally get a knot out of a necklace chain.”
The first few sessions required some adjustment. Margaret started with minimal traction, keeping most of her weight on her legs. As her neck adapted over the first week, she gradually increased the stretch.
“The instructions said some people feel mild soreness at first, like starting a new exercise,” she says. “I did feel that for a day or two. Then it was just relief.”
By the end of the first week, the morning stiffness that had plagued her for over a year was noticeably reduced. By week two, she realized she’d gone three consecutive days without a headache—something that hadn’t happened in recent memory.
By week four, the shooting pains down her arm had stopped entirely.
“I actually forgot I used to have those,” Margaret says. “That’s how completely they went away. It wasn’t until my daughter asked how my neck was doing that I realized—oh, right. That used to be a problem.”
The changes weren’t just physical. With the pain gone, Margaret found herself reaching for her iPad more often, not less. Video calls that used to leave her hurting for hours now had no aftermath at all. She could read for an entire evening without dreading the next morning.
She’d found a way to counteract the damage her screen time was causing—to stretch out what she’d spent hours compressing.
The Conversation She Was Dreading Never Had to Happen
Six weeks after Margaret started using cervical traction, she had a follow-up appointment with her doctor. She almost cancelled it—things were going so well that she’d honestly forgotten about the looming “surgical options” conversation.
But she went anyway, curious about what the examination would show.
“He did all the same tests as before—range of motion, nerve response, that sort of thing,” Margaret says. “I could tell he was surprised. He kept asking if I’d been doing my exercises.”
When Margaret told him about the traction device, he nodded slowly. “He said it was essentially what they do in physical therapy, just without the appointment and the copay. He was glad I found something that worked.”
Surgery was taken off the table entirely. Steroid injections, which had been mentioned as a likely next step, were shelved. Her doctor’s only advice: keep doing what you’re doing.
Margaret still uses her iPad constantly. She still video calls her grandchildren several times a week. She still reads articles, plays games, and watches more YouTube than she’d care to admit.
But now she also spends 15 minutes each morning undoing whatever compression the previous day created. It’s become as automatic as brushing her teeth—just part of how she takes care of herself.
“My daughter still worries about me. That’s her job,” Margaret says with a laugh. “But she’s stopped offering to move back and help. I think she can tell I’m doing okay.”
Last month, Margaret flew to Seattle for her granddaughter’s sixth birthday party. It was her first flight in two years—she’d been avoiding travel because of how much the cramped seats aggravated her neck.
She packed the traction device in her carry-on. Used it in the hotel room that first night. Woke up feeling fine.
“I realized I’d been letting the pain shrink my life,” she says. “Turning down trips, dreading family visits, watching everyone else’s life happen through a screen because showing up in person felt too hard. That’s not how I want to spend my seventies.”
She pauses.
“I want to be there. Actually there. And now I can be.”
Try It Yourself: 50% Off for First-Time Buyers
The NeckAlign Universal Neck Traction System fits any standard door, requires no tools or installation, and takes less than a minute to set up.
The soft flocking fabric feels gentle against skin—even sensitive skin. The adjustable straps accommodate any height. The manual handle puts you in complete control of the traction intensity.
Start with 10-15 minutes a day. Feel the difference within the first week.
For a limited time, first-time buyers receive 50% off their order. No codes to remember. Just click below and the discount applies automatically.
Relief is closer than you think.
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