Ask someone how their neck feels a week after a wreck and you will get an adjective. Sore. Tight. Better, maybe. Ask what they could not do this week and you will get something far more useful: I could not carry the laundry basket up from the basement. I let my son rake the yard. I backed out of the driveway using only the mirrors. I skipped the farmers market because I did not want to carry the bags.
That second kind of answer is what this entry is about. The Journal calls it a function diary, and it may be the most useful page a reader can bring to an exam.
Why the ordinary list matters
Many Kirkwood houses are old and tall: a basement laundry, a second-floor bedroom, a detached garage at the end of a narrow driveway, a yard with a real tree in it. A normal week in one of those houses is a quiet workout of stairs, lifting, reaching, bending, and turning. After a crash, the week gets smaller, and people rarely notice it shrinking because they adjust without thinking.
An examiner cares about that shrinking. A treatment plan is aimed at getting ordinary things back, and "carry the basket up the stairs again" is a goal both of you can see. A pain score of six out of ten on Tuesday is harder to work with than "I could do the stairs once but not twice."
How to keep the diary
A notebook on the kitchen counter works. So does a note on the phone. Keep it to four short columns and one line per task:
| Date | Task | What happened | Usual before the crash |
|---|---|---|---|
| Sep 2 | Laundry up from the basement | Half a basket, two trips, neck sore after | Full basket, one trip |
| Sep 3 | Backing out of the driveway | Could not turn to look; mirrors only | Turned and looked |
| Sep 4 | Mowing the front yard | Stopped halfway; low back | Front and back, no trouble |
| Sep 5 | Picking up the grandkid | Did not try | Every Friday |
The last column is the one people skip, and it is the one that makes the rest mean something. "Stopped halfway" is only a finding if everyone knows you usually finish.
What belongs on the list
Think in the categories a normal Kirkwood week actually contains:
- The house. Stairs, laundry, vacuuming, reaching a high shelf, getting down to a low one.
- The yard. Mowing, raking, carrying bags to the curb on trash day, the gutters.
- The car. Backing out, the shoulder check on Kirkwood Road, getting in and out of a low seat, the drive to work.
- The people. Lifting a child or a grandchild, walking the dog, helping a parent.
- The job. Sitting through a meeting, lifting at work, a long shift on your feet.
- The night. Waking up because of pain, trouble getting comfortable, how you felt getting out of bed.
- The things you like. The morning walk, the Saturday pickleball game, the bike ride.
Write "did not try" when that is the truth. Skipping something because you expected it to hurt is part of the picture.
What not to put in it
Keep it plain. The diary is not a place to argue with anyone, predict the future, or decide what is wrong. It is a record of what you did and did not do, dated, in your own words. Write the good days too. "Did the stairs twice, no trouble" is as useful a line as any, because it shows which way things are heading.
And do not push through a chore in sharp pain just to see whether you can. The point is to notice, not to test yourself.
How it fits with the exam record
The Journal's standing entry on the dated record explains what an exam produces: findings, range of motion, a plan, all with a date on them. The function diary is the other half. The exam measures what the neck or back does on the table. The diary shows what it does in your life. Bring the notebook to the first visit and keep writing after it; the diary is how you and the person treating you will notice change between visits.
The bright line
A diary is for the slow week, not the emergency. Chest pain, a sudden severe headache, weakness or numbness on one side, trouble speaking, a loss of bowel or bladder control, or a head injury with vomiting or worsening confusion is an emergency room trip right now, not a call to a clinic.
The one action
Start the diary tonight and book the exam this week. Tesson Ferry is the nearest Missouri Injury Clinic office to Kirkwood, at 11144 Tesson Ferry Road, Suite 200, (314) 530-5480. It is open Monday through Thursday 9am to 6pm and Friday 9am to 12pm, and closed daily from 12 to 2. Hazelwood and O'Fallon are listed on the offices entry.