I’m not here to make you like me

Last night, out of the blue, The Missus hits the wall, big time. More or less can’t get anything done but drag herself off to bed. Of the three of us under this roof, The Missus is way the most likely to get sick if sick is coming calling. I figure last night is no exception.

This morning, even after almost 12 hours in bed, she sounds and feels like 50 miles of unpaved road. She apologizes, says she has to stay home. I feel like a dick because my obviously ill wife is apologizing to me, yet at the same time, I can’t help but feel crowded by this interruption of my beloved routine.

I am so all about routine, it’s not even funny. Sad, yes. Funny, not so much.

So in my infinite givingness, I tell her if she’s as sick as she looks and sounds, she’s going to the doctor. Subtext: I’ve had it with this shit! If you’re really sick, we’re gonna give this illness a name, find out what kills it then stock up on that shit and kill it once and for all.

Get to the doctor… [sidebar: Boise’s walk-in clinic is amazing, in terms of wait-times. You can wait the better part of a day in the E.R. in Long Beach and not be seen, but we were in and out of Boise’s drop-in sawbones within a couple hours.]

The doctor gives her a good once-over while I am explaining my intention to identify this illness and proactively eliminate it. The doctor shrugs and explains it’s probably viral, meaning she’ll just have to ride it out. I do not care for this answer, not in the least.

I inquire about having a blood test done; the doctor warns us off of having blood taken, citing the expense. That’s when my dander really begins to rise. Honestly, how do you put a price on a loved one’s health? We’ve blown thousands of dollars we didn’t have to improve and elongate our dog’s life, but I’m supposed to cut corners on the health of the mother of my child?

I keep my cool, but continue to ride the doctor, respectfully. The doctor orders up a breathing test. After every exhale, The Missus goes into a coughing jag. When she finally finishes up coughing and the doctor can hear herself think again, she asks The Missus if she experienced “any trouble breathing.”

It’s at this point that I am glad she is a woman doctor because I would never hit a woman, not even this provoked. I suggest that the fact that my wife has coughing fits every time she exhales, indicates she is experiencing some “trouble” breathing. I’m so angry by now I am beginning to stammer.

The doctor agrees with my roughly-assembled sentence fragments and we run The Missus down to X-Ray. Sure enough, there’s a pneumonia-thingie sitting on the bottom of one of her lungs. Suddenly I’m not upset at all anymore about the interruption of my routine and focus my wrath instead at myself for having been so upset at the interruption of my routine.

I have another point, beyond the rote self-loathing. I think I’ve made this point before, but it bears repeating:

When you’re sick, get thee to a doctor. Don’t let lack of ready cash stop you. If going to a doctor you can’t afford saves your life, you can spend the rest of it working to pay him or her back. It beats not having a rest of your life. We’re still paying off that damned dog and don’t regret a penny of it.

And bring somebody with you who doesn’t give a jolly good fuck if the doctor likes them or not to advocate on your behalf. Most people doctors see aren’t that terribly sick, especially at these walk-in clinics during flu season. Their first impulse, it seems, if one doesn’t present with blood flowing from open wounds, is to assume the patient is a hypochondriac. It’s your advocate’s job to make sure the doctor is apprised of all your symptoms, whether or not they seem related, then push for more aggressive diagnostic steps to be taken.

Honestly, initially it looked like the diagnosis was going to be “Go home and if it gets worse, come back in a week.” In a week, she’d be taking an ambulance to one of the two big hospitals in town.

Remember, they’re your family, not the doctor’s. Don’t be afraid to be a dick for someone you love.

Oh, and next time, we’re getting that blood test.