Monday, February 6, 2012

Macho Macho Man

     Ross is suffering with a pinched nerve in his neck.  He is in a lot of pain.    He just could not find a comfortable position after he got into bed last night.
    We tried propping him up on 4 pillows, then no pillows.  He tried lying flat on his back, then the left side, and then right side.  We tried an ice pack, and three ibuprofen.  Still no relief.  So, two hours later he took another two ibuprofen.  When it was apparent that the pain was not getting better. I finally decided that it was time to break out the good stuff.  After a dose of Percocet, he (we) finally fell asleep.  It was about 1:30 a.m.
     I was hoping that after some hours of sleep, he would feel better in the morning.  But when he woke up  the pain just as intense as it was the night before.
     Now I don't mind playing Nurse Lynda.  I do have experience with illness.  After all I raised three kids.

    Our conversation this morning went something like this:
     Me:  "How are you doing?"
     Ross:  no response
     Me:  "Why don't you try to get up and get in the shower?  It might you feel better.
     Ross:  "mmmm"  [no movement, though]
     Me:  "Do you want me to fix you anything?"
     Ross: no response
     Me:  "Is the pain better, the same, or worse?"
     Ross:  groan
     Me:  "Do you want to see a doctor?"
     Ross: "argh"
   I don't know if it is my age or  my current emotional state, but I just didn't seem to have much patience with my patient this morning.
     Me:  "Look, here's how this is going to go.  When I ask you a question, you need to acknowledge that you heard me and respond in words that I understand.   Even if it is to tell me that, you don't need anything or that you just want to be left alone.  I would understand.    But it is very frustrating when you don't answer me.   I don't understand grunts and groans.  And I can't help you if you won't tell me what you need."
     Ross just looked at me; completely caught off guard.   I don't normally speak to him in that manner.  That certainly was not the kinder gentler Lynda.
     I am worried about him.  It hurts me to see him in pain.  But his attitude of wanting to wait a few days to see if his condition will improve on its own is puzzling.   Is that a male, macho thing or just plain stubbornness?
     After our conversation this morning, okay it was me talking and apparently he listening, he got up, showered, and dressed.   He said the ham and swiss omelet I made him was delicious.
     He seemed better for most of the day.  I thought "okay, he knows what he is doing.  I guess this is going to get better on its own."
     It is now 11:30 p.m.   Right now he is again in a lot of pain trying to find relief in a hot shower.
     To top it off on March 14 Ross is scheduled to have surgery to repair a tear in his rotator cuff.  The pain he is in now, though is not coming from that injury.  It is on the other side.   Poor guy.
     I see that I am going to have to have another heart to heart talk with him.  No more waiting.  He will call the doctor tomorrow.  Nurse Lynda insists.
Here is today's entry in Anna's diary:
Wed. February 6 1929
Home all morning.  Over to Minie's play bridge with Elsie and Junior. Home for supper.  Read. Listened to radio.  Stromberg-Carlson and quite wonderful.  All electrified.
     There is a full moon tonight.  And I just had to take a few pictures of it.  My camera is pretty awesome.


  1. Lynda, Lynda.  Why do you have to make this so hard?  I am the least macho man on the planet, a genuine Winnie the Pooh, described thusly by an adult female friend.  Yet, to go to the doctor, when I can simply stay at home, in agony, is so much more, well, it's so much more…it's so much more…it's so much more.  I'm  kind of dumb, huh?  Shoot, I thought I had a handle on this.  I better cogitate, and get back to you.  

    Meanwhile, maybe you can help me out, since you have a lot of experience and everything.  I have this growth on my hand.  It hurts like crazy, and Annie says I should see a doctor.  But, you know, these things come and go, and maybe you could help me out with some advice...

  2. I thin Ross is being stubborn.  More men that I know (including the mister) take to their beds at the first sign of discomfort - REALLY, dude?  you want to go to a doctor for that??????  The mister runs there for everything.  Me?  I gotta be on the ground in great pain (as in hit by a truck - really - or experiencing kidney stones) before my shadow will darken the doctor's door.  I don't trust the medical profession  -- except when I need them.  More percocet please.....

  3. OH, and NICE photos - wow.  no, make that WOW!

  4. I don't doctor much either.  And if the situation were reversed I probably would be acting the same way as Ross.
    Anyway so far today, he is feeling better.  

  5. Are you kidding me?  A growth?  And no doctor?  Really?  What is Annie going to do with you?

  6. Geee...eeez!  It's just a friggin' pinched nerve and a torn rotator cuff.  Can't a guy whine once in a while.  Besides it's not half as serious as a G-R-O-W-T-H.  In which case, I would throw in some writhing along with my whining.  Maybe a skulk or two as well.

  7. Gorgeous photos. And, yes, I think refusing to seek medical care is a predominantly male thing, though as JT points out there are quite a few who take it to the opposite extreme. At work, where there are usually 15 or 17 guys at a time, it's generally split about fifty-fifty betewen the ones who refuse to see anyone no matter how serious it seems and the ones who want an ambulance escort to the hospital for a hangnail.