Archive for September 21, 2012

Maybe the Problem is That You Don’t Hurt Bad Enough

When I got home tonight, SwampMan was stretched out in his recliner. “I hurt all over!” he moaned. “My shoulders, my neck, my back, my knees, even my hips! I’ve been out of diclofenac for THREE DAYS and my prescription hasn’t been renewed!”

“Well, maybe you’re coming down with something. The flu is going around!” I offered helpfully.

“No, it’s because either the doctor’s office or the pharmacy keeps screwing up my prescriptions!” he complained. “They renewed my other prescriptions!”

“Unh hunh. And you didn’t go in to get your blood tests done when you were supposed to, and now you have to go see the doc to talk about the results on Tuesday.”

“Well, the diclofenac is the least of my problems!”

“No, it isn’t. It can have serious side effects over time. You need to go in when you are supposed to for your tests.”

“What am I supposed to do in the meantime, lay in a chair all weekend?”

*sigh* It’s gonna be a long weekend.

“I know that I’m going to be a grouchy bastard all weekend and I’m going to apologize in advance, but I really do hurt really bad!”

*sigh* It’s gonna be a VERY long weekend.

“Well, did you take anything?” I asked.

“Like what?”

“Something over the counter, like BC Powder or aspirin or Tylenol.”

“No. What have we got?”

*sigh* When I’m in pain, I look in the medicine cabinet.

“BC Powder. Take one.”


“Uh, YEAH.” I handed him the BC Powder along with the cup of horrible sickeningly sweet tea he’d brought home from McDonald’s.

“Maybe the problem is that you don’t hurt bad enough!” I said, throwing gasoline on the fire.


“If you were in enough pain, you would do something about it.”


“Hmmmmmph. When I was in terrible pain and the docs would only prescribe medication for the symptoms instead of looking for the cause, I kept looking until I found out what was wrong. And guess what? I now have no arthritis pain whatsoever. I do not eat any of the foods that I formerly loved because the pain is just too bad. You, however, refuse to even try a gluten-free diet. You were on it for a little bit, admitted you felt better, then went right back to eating the old way. You won’t cut back on the sugar though you’re now a diabetic due to your diet. You won’t take any of the joint health supplements that I spent my (meager) pay on. You refuse to do any exercise to maintain range of motion. You won’t read any of the articles I sent to you about healthy low-carb diets for diabetics. If you were in bad enough pain, you’d take responsibility and do something about it.”

He was outraged, and wanted to argue with me. I held up my hand like I do to the middle school kids. “Nope! Don’t want to hear it.” Then I walked out to feed.

When I came back inside, he had gone to bed (before 8 p.m.) Perhaps he is coming down with something, but I think I’ve been enabling him to evade responsibility for his health by being too sympathetic and doing things like serving him his dinner and drink in his lazy chair so he won’t have to get up, and getting him his drink refills, seconds, salt, etc. Maybe it is time to put away the kid gloves and put on the steel-toed boots. Particularly since I found that he left a bag with a couple slices of bakery cake in it on my chair.

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