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i meannnn..... working? yeah, things are quite good marriage-wise.
i gave up nagging 25 years ago. useless and destructive, but i was young and foolish (as opposed to old and foolish.lol).
just thought you might have some brilliant insight as to what the incorrect approaches are. you often come up with flashes of insight into human character, and i was wondering if this would be one of those times.
i need particulars. vague things tend to fly right over my head.
i gave up nagging 25 years ago. useless and destructive, but i was young and foolish (as opposed to old and foolish.lol).
just thought you might have some brilliant insight as to what the incorrect approaches are. you often come up with flashes of insight into human character, and i was wondering if this would be one of those times.
i need particulars. vague things tend to fly right over my head.
I get that, but why not? Especially if something is seriously out of whack? I mean, cut your foot off, and wait to see if it gets better before next week.
D
I know it's manly as in a man-thing. But I don't know if it's an I'm-a-tough-guy manly thing.
Even I have the instinct to run and hide when I'm crying, so no one sees me weak. But, once I'm hiding, I'm crying. Men don't even do that. So it's not a "see me as a tough guy" thing. Other guys don't see it as a sign of weakness to have a cast on. (Of course, there might be a story of a shark bite versus tripping on the sprinkler. lol) So why not, if the other guys aren't looking?
And, yeah. Hard not to want to pitch in around the house, even when I'm throwing up. lol
Even I have the instinct to run and hide when I'm crying, so no one sees me weak. But, once I'm hiding, I'm crying. Men don't even do that. So it's not a "see me as a tough guy" thing. Other guys don't see it as a sign of weakness to have a cast on. (Of course, there might be a story of a shark bite versus tripping on the sprinkler. lol) So why not, if the other guys aren't looking?
And, yeah. Hard not to want to pitch in around the house, even when I'm throwing up. lol
D
Might be, (minus evolution, too. lol) I still think part of the reason hubby didn't go to the doctor when the "indigestion" kept getting worse was because he knew I was expecting him to roast the turkey for Thanksgiving.
And nurses and doctors seemed unaware he hurt -- and hurt bad -- because he looked away and grimaced. Worse yet, when he cries, no tears fall. His face turns red and he shakes, but no tears. (I had to tell him that's him crying before they thought it might be hurting him too much. Yeesh.)
They kept telling him how well he took pain. And I kept telling them, "Yeah, but it's still pain!"
And nurses and doctors seemed unaware he hurt -- and hurt bad -- because he looked away and grimaced. Worse yet, when he cries, no tears fall. His face turns red and he shakes, but no tears. (I had to tell him that's him crying before they thought it might be hurting him too much. Yeesh.)
They kept telling him how well he took pain. And I kept telling them, "Yeah, but it's still pain!"
D
true story:
Mark, working too quickly with a v-e-r-y sharp putty knife, cut the back of his hand, severing a tendon and leaving his middle finger hanging immobile. it was bleeding profusely.
he covered it with paper towels and duct tape and finished the work day. good thing he's ambidextrous, right?
he comes home with the brilliant plan to tape his fingers together from then on because, hey!, the index and ring fingers are fine, just fine.
i, in desperation, apply Jon's "it hurts my heart" method, because it actually does.
we go to the ED, he gets IV antibiotics, a tetanus shot and an appointment with a hand surgeon.
two days later has hand surgery, four days later is back at work. hhhhhh!! lol
six months later, he comes home with a cut on his finger so wide and deep you can see bone. (ew)
(again with the paper towels and duct tape and the finishing the six hours of work.)
again, my heart is hurt, and he's telling me it's fine. i think it may be past the stitches window and being upset and heart hurt, intend to call 411 to get the doc's home number to ask, and accidentally call 911 instead.
you can't call 911 without consequences, though it's a mistake, and 5 minutes later there's a lovely sheriff's deputy at the door. i answer it, and typical of police training he sums me up in a heartbeat. he jokingly says he needs to talk to Mark to make sure we're not (and i quote) stabbing each other with knives.
Mark comes to the kitchen, the deputy looks at the cut, turns to me and says, are you SURE you didn't mean to call 911?!? offers to take husband to the hospital, husband respectfully refuses, deputy shares a knowing look with husband and leaves.
i'm not all that certain there's "logic" involved.
but i know that man will do almost anything for me. ♥
Mark, working too quickly with a v-e-r-y sharp putty knife, cut the back of his hand, severing a tendon and leaving his middle finger hanging immobile. it was bleeding profusely.
he covered it with paper towels and duct tape and finished the work day. good thing he's ambidextrous, right?
he comes home with the brilliant plan to tape his fingers together from then on because, hey!, the index and ring fingers are fine, just fine.
i, in desperation, apply Jon's "it hurts my heart" method, because it actually does.
we go to the ED, he gets IV antibiotics, a tetanus shot and an appointment with a hand surgeon.
two days later has hand surgery, four days later is back at work. hhhhhh!! lol
six months later, he comes home with a cut on his finger so wide and deep you can see bone. (ew)
(again with the paper towels and duct tape and the finishing the six hours of work.)
again, my heart is hurt, and he's telling me it's fine. i think it may be past the stitches window and being upset and heart hurt, intend to call 411 to get the doc's home number to ask, and accidentally call 911 instead.
you can't call 911 without consequences, though it's a mistake, and 5 minutes later there's a lovely sheriff's deputy at the door. i answer it, and typical of police training he sums me up in a heartbeat. he jokingly says he needs to talk to Mark to make sure we're not (and i quote) stabbing each other with knives.
Mark comes to the kitchen, the deputy looks at the cut, turns to me and says, are you SURE you didn't mean to call 911?!? offers to take husband to the hospital, husband respectfully refuses, deputy shares a knowing look with husband and leaves.
i'm not all that certain there's "logic" involved.
but i know that man will do almost anything for me. ♥
He immediately remembered a time when he and another guy were working on stove pipe, (which is thicker ductwork?), and he slashed his wrist. Duct tape to the rescue, but he was nervous since it was his wrist. Because he called it in, the bosses approved paying for the trip to the doctor. So, naturally, after work was over
rolleyes he went and got two stitches.We did figure out how to remove unsightly scars though. Just get older, have your eyes get worse, and then viola'! No more scar because we can't see them anymore. lol
D
Years ago I cut my finger badly at work. To stop the bleeding I wrapped it in duct tape and thought I was good to go. The next morning blood starts shooting out. It was only then that I decided to go to the ER. I had cut through a tendon and it took over 20 stitches to sew up the wound. The doctor said I never was going to be able to bend my finger again. He was wrong. What do doctor's know anyway?
i meannnn..... working? yeah, things are quite good marriage-wise.
i gave up nagging 25 years ago. useless and destructive, but i was young and foolish (as opposed to old and foolish.lol).
just thought you might have some brilliant insight as to what the incorrect approaches are. you often come up with flashes of insight into human character, and i was wondering if this would be one of those times.
i need particulars. vague things tend to fly right over my head.
i gave up nagging 25 years ago. useless and destructive, but i was young and foolish (as opposed to old and foolish.lol).
just thought you might have some brilliant insight as to what the incorrect approaches are. you often come up with flashes of insight into human character, and i was wondering if this would be one of those times.
i need particulars. vague things tend to fly right over my head.
Y
My disdain for doctors is a result of two primary things:
1. My Mom was the type that just HAD to get me into a doctor every 6 months, rain or shine, and I've got my Thimerisol-based crap coursing through my veins as a result of her getting me inoculated against everything.
2. Getting hurt in the military, I spent a great deal of time at Balboa Naval Hospital in San Diego. A great deal of time.
Now that I am primary caregiver for my Father, you can well imagine I am again in hospitals a great deal. Between his monthly GP check-ups, the monthly checks at his cardiologist to make sure his A-Fib is still good to go, the monthly checks with his pulmonary specialist to keep tabs on his COPD, bi-monthly checks with other specialists to keep tabs on his loss of blood flow to his lower extremities...and then all the pharmacies, home medical care specialty companies for his oxygen machine, on and on and on...
I am sick of doctors. Up to [here]. Sick of them.
Stubborn as I am though, I recognize when I can soldier through a cold or a mild bout of the flu...or salve an abrasion or rub some analgesic on a pulled muscle...and when I need to get some professional help. Kidney stones...yeah that felt so different that I knew for SURE that something was wrong and I needed help. I got help. My never-ending vomiting that resulted in a MRI and a cancer scare that wound up not being cancer...again vomiting non stop for a week isn't normal and I got help.
So for me, I have a certain level of pain and discomfort I am willing to put up with or try my own brand of country medicine on. More than that, for longer than that, or something outside my realm of experience means I will schedule a dr. appointment or I will call 911. I'm stubborn, not stupid.
1. My Mom was the type that just HAD to get me into a doctor every 6 months, rain or shine, and I've got my Thimerisol-based crap coursing through my veins as a result of her getting me inoculated against everything.
2. Getting hurt in the military, I spent a great deal of time at Balboa Naval Hospital in San Diego. A great deal of time.
Now that I am primary caregiver for my Father, you can well imagine I am again in hospitals a great deal. Between his monthly GP check-ups, the monthly checks at his cardiologist to make sure his A-Fib is still good to go, the monthly checks with his pulmonary specialist to keep tabs on his COPD, bi-monthly checks with other specialists to keep tabs on his loss of blood flow to his lower extremities...and then all the pharmacies, home medical care specialty companies for his oxygen machine, on and on and on...
I am sick of doctors. Up to [here]. Sick of them.
Stubborn as I am though, I recognize when I can soldier through a cold or a mild bout of the flu...or salve an abrasion or rub some analgesic on a pulled muscle...and when I need to get some professional help. Kidney stones...yeah that felt so different that I knew for SURE that something was wrong and I needed help. I got help. My never-ending vomiting that resulted in a MRI and a cancer scare that wound up not being cancer...again vomiting non stop for a week isn't normal and I got help.
So for me, I have a certain level of pain and discomfort I am willing to put up with or try my own brand of country medicine on. More than that, for longer than that, or something outside my realm of experience means I will schedule a dr. appointment or I will call 911. I'm stubborn, not stupid.