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.


5 Responses so far »

  1. 1

    kae said,

    Nice intervention, Swampy. I hope it works.

  2. 2

    no2liberals said,

    There was a man, Mr. Jones, who constantly complained to his wife about how badly he felt…all the time and his most recent complaint was a painful elbow joint.
    She recommended he make a doctor’s appointment, to which Mr. Jones complained and grumbled about all the poking, prodding, needles and rubber gloves. He thought they were all quacks only looking to run up a huge bill with endless tests.
    Mrs. Jones then stated, either see the doctor or shut the Hell up, she didn’t want to hear it anymore.
    After stewing all night Mr. Jones called his doctor the next morning and made an appointment. At the doctor visit, his doctor asked him why it had been so long since his last visit, to which Mr. Jones unloaded about his view of the doctors profession and the methods used. The doctor then explained that medical technology had made tremendous advances since his last visit and he now had a machine that could diagnose any condition with only a urine sample. The doctor told him to come in first thing the next morning, that the urine sample had to be from the first urination of the day.
    Mr. Jones was not amused, especially after paying for the office visit, but decided to play along and have the last laugh on this quack and his shiny new contraption.
    So first thing the next morning Mr. Jones urinated in the cup, he had his wife and teenage daughter urinate in the cup, he masturbated into the cup and on his way out of the garage he scrapped a little motor oil off the floor and put it in the cup.
    Mr. Jones arrived at the doctor’s office, handed the cup to the lab worker and watched as the machine’s lights, bells and whistles went wild and a long print out was made. Mr. Jones was then escorted to an examination room to wait for the doctor.
    The doctor came in and informed Mr. Jones he needed to sit down, he had some very unsettling issues to discuss with him. Feigning surprise Mr. Jones said “oh no, doctor…what is wrong with me?”
    The doctor then informed Mr. Jones of the following:
    1)You are pregnant
    2)You have a yeast infection
    3)Your Volvo needs a tune up
    4)If you would stop masturbating your tennis elbow would go away

    Ain’t technology wonderful!??!

  3. 5

    swampie said,

    Well, he’ll find out Tuesday!

Comment RSS · TrackBack URI

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: