Thursday, March 31, 2011

"Say ahhhhhhh........"

My poor darling Daddio has been complaining about...well, about everything.

Everything from a sore finger to a racing heartbeat.

My crazy advice...?

"It's time for your physical dude"....

You would have thought I asked him to put his index finger into the garbage disposal (while running) had you seen the look of pure terror that remark brought to his handsome face.

"I don't need nooo doc-ter"

"There is nuttin wrong with me"

"I just went for a physical"

(Actually, It's been a couple of years, dear ...)

Now don't be a hater (and write me silly emails about how I should let my husband be a grown up and ain't gonna happen) when I tell you that I had to call and make the appointment for him.

Once I jumped that hurdle and made the call Daddio had every excuse in the book why he couldn't make it.

Like a good tennis match, we back and forth-ed it (for days) until I won....(tee-hee).

And he agreed to go.

The morning of the appointment Daddio was in (not so) rare form.

"What are you going to tell him is wrong with you...?" I gently coached.

"Nuttin.." Daddio replied, "I'm not telling him a damn thing, if he is a good doctor, he can figure it out".

"He can guess what is wrong with me..."

"COME ON!!!" I say, starting to feel like I need to meet my boy in the waiting room... "you gotta give him SOMETHING to work with".

"Nah" said Daddio "it's on him to figure this out"

Ohhh brother

(Maybe you could say hot or cold as he nears your symptoms and issues...? just a thought.)

While eating his Corn Flakes, Daddio continued to express his feelings of unadulterated panic...

"Plan on me coming home and finding a quiet corner" Daddio said

"Where I can suck my thumb and go to my happy place"..

"After a half hour in the cell with BIG BUBBA...I'm gonna be in some serious pain"...

I finally figured out he was talking about his prostrate exam.

I wanted sooo much to compare his exam to the duck billed gyno tear apart or the boob in a cold steel vice squeeze we women have to endure...

I could have gone the childbirth route too...but I do have a heart..and so I patted his back and told him I'd clean out one of the corners and toss him an afghan and a Jimmy Beam/ Diet Pepsi when he came back from the war from his appointment.

He called on the way home.

"They want to hospitalize me immediately" Daddio said

My breath caught in my throat, and my heart pounded...

He came clean a second later and said he was "fine" and on his way home.

He sounded good... real good.

"How did IT go?" I asked, referring to the internal probe.

Well, somehow he managed to dodge that bullet...he has to go back for THAT and some fasting blood work in two weeks..

Which gives him some time to locate a petite female doctor with fingers the size of shoestring french fries.

To be continued......

1 comment:

  1. LOL!! You crack me up! I too have to make my hubby's dr. appts. And yea, he too complains about his physical.


Some bloggers write "gimme me some love".... as far as I'm concerned, I'd love some love, but I'd even take some hate, some expressions of your disgust, your outrage, mild irritation, sheer joy...whatever, I can take it, honestly I can. Just please (please) leave a comment or two and let me know what you think. Merci.