Posted in Family, The Husband

Poor Little Bunny

A gold nugget of truth has been circulating YouTube for some time now.  At least the female 1/2 of the population knows this to be so.  The male quadrant may or may not dispute it, but opposition does not negate fact.  Man + illness is an obnoxious combination.

Paradoxically, the male gender, for the most part, is incapable of getting medical attention.  Unless it is against their will.  Or something equally dramatic.

If a man will not see a doctor when he is ill, and yet require the women in his life function in the capacity of doctor, nurse, surgeon, candy striper, etc, then it goes without saying that a physical is out of the question.  A regular, run-of-the-mill check-up is not even to be considered.

What if the possibility exists that you have a sleep disorder?  What if these resting irregularities could be taxing your body and health?  With the eventual outcome of leaving your wife a widow with children to raise, past her prime and therefore reducing the odds that a nice, wealthy man would marry her and give her financial stability.  Aging her more quickly and leaving those poor fatherless children fully orphaned.  Jerk.

That was called hyperbole.

It worked.

For the first time in years, my husband acquired a primary care physician and scheduled himself an appointment.

I am proud of him.  That was a difficult thing to do.  Men are not like us.  Setting up appointments to have strangers inspect your person does not come easily to someone whose body was not built to house, incubate, and grow another human.  That’s how I see it, anyways.  I have no dignity left when it comes to my body, so neither should anyone else.  It’s for the common good.  And a happy wife (with a living husband) is beneficial for a happy family.

While I have greatly exaggerated the extent of spousal malady, the fact remains that taking care of ourselves ranks high on the ‘caring for your family’ to-do list.

Also, the man I married is a bit of a hypochondriac with a penchant for browsing WebMD.  It was in the best interest of my sanity to convince him to schedule said appointment.

So I pat myself on the back.  My job is to make sure my husband and children are healthy.  By whatever means necessary.

Ahem.

Gotta run.  Dentist appointments to schedule.

 

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I rock. I also paper and scissors.

Come on. Let it out. You know you want to.

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