Sep 7, 2007

There Is A Moral In Here Somewhere

I married a hypochondriac. Plain and simple. There is no other way to put it.

I learned early in our relationship not to mention if I was feeling ill. Well, I can say, "I am not feeling well." But, if I mention the body part that hurts, Kyle is screeching in pain within half an hour.

For example, if I tell Kyle that my stomach is upset, these are the thoughts that run through his head:

I hope that she is okay.
Maybe it is something that she ate.
Did I eat the same thing?
I hope that she doesn't have food poisoning.
What is that sharp pain in my side?
I have food poisoning!
Wait! We didn't eat the same thing.
What if the bacteria jumped from her plate to mine?
What if it is a tumor?

This is honestly the way that he thinks. If he falls asleep on the couch, he has narcolepsy. If he has heartburn, he has gastro-esophageal reflux disease. On our honeymoon, he got bit by a mosquito and kept looking for signs of West Nile. Lord help us if we see a commercial with symptoms of a disease, because he has ALL of them. I am not exaggerating. I am sure that Penny or Caroline will back me up.

So, several years ago, my dentist gave me the bad news. My wisdom teeth had to be removed. I made the appointment with the oral surgeon and made arrangements for my parents to come stay with me. Then I called Kyle. I made sure to tell him that I was not hurting whatsoever, but I had to have the surgery.

The next day, his back right tooth was hurting. I, being the understanding, loving person that I am, completely laughed at him. This continued for four more days.

That weekend, I forced him to go to the Mexican restaurant because I was starving. I laughed as he ordered two soft tacos and grimaced during the entire meal. I kept telling him that it was just sympathy pains and that I wasn't hurting at all. It was all in his head.

So, while I am paying the bill, who does Kyle run into? The dental hygienist that works at his dentist office. I laughed as she took a tiny flashlight out of her purse and looked in his mouth in the waiting area of the restaurant! I will never forget the next words that she said.

"Yep, you have a problem! I will call Dr. Pace tonight. Can you be in the office tomorrow morning?"

So, needless to say, Kyle had emergency surgery on Super Bowl Sunday for a popcorn husk that got stuck behind his back tooth. He had a horrible abscess and I had been laughing at him for five days.

I felt like a giant turd.

Things have gotten a little better though. He laughs at himself now. I have learned that if I baby him a little, then he gets over his "symptoms" much quicker, but if I giggle at him, it could mean a trip to the emergency room.

Heaven help the man when we have a baby!

1 comment:

Suburban Turmoil said...

I am sure your husband has wonderful redeeming qualities, but between me and you? This would be hard to deal with! :D