Michael is not one of those men who turns into a big-baby when he gets sick. Mainly he tries to pretend it's not happening-doesn't want to talk about it at all. He pretends so convincingly that it can be a couple of days before I even realize he's sick.
If he's hurt I may never know. Just one small example: He hit his thumb with a hammer while we were restoring our house. I swear he hid it from me. Months later, I noticed the blood blister under his nail.
"When did that happen?"
"When I was finishing the trim in the living room."
"Dang!" I said. "If that had been me, I would have told you about it every day."
"I know." he said...sounding resigned.
This made me vow not to share so much next time I had an illness or injury....a resolve that, of course, only lasted until the next time I had anything happen with my health or well-being.
I like to think of myself as stoic...but then again I also like to think I can eat a pan of lemon squares and not gain weight. Unfortunately, when I get a cold I could probably best be described as: WHINY.
I try not to be...sort of. But, you know, I'm a communicator. Communicating is what I do. Most of the time I'm communicating about how swell Michael is and how nutty I am about him. If, occasionally, I'm communicating that my head is stuffy...and if I mention it...well, a lot, that's just the price of admission to the Susan Party of Life. Right?
That's what I tell myself anyhow. Luckily, Michael's pretty patient about me giving him regular Snot Updates when I'm sick. (Blow-by-blow reports, as it were.)
I like that about him.
Our roles were reversed when we dealt with truly serious issues. We have each had one major health-challenge during our relationship. I won't give you the boring details but we both had bouts of some serious Level 8 through 10 pain. (You know, like on the pain chart at the doctor's office where the little smiley-faced man turns into a sobbing face.)
My coping mechanism was withdrawal and denial. I adopted a total 'leave me alone I will handle this' approach. Equally surprising, Michael reached out for help.
The big difference in our situations was that the doctors weren't quite sure what the problem was with Michael, and weren't understanding how serious it was for a long time. He was forced to communicate how really, really bad it was. My problem was clear cut, or clear broken-to-smithereens more like it. They put me back together and all that could be done was to wait for the pain to subside, and the healing and rehab to begin. Talking about it seemed, for once, pointless and a waste of my energy.
I think both situations deepened our relationship and also put our minds at ease. The way I handled something really tough told Michael that he didn't have to worry that if there was a real problem I wouldn't be able to shut up. He now knew that I wouldn't make our lives a living hell in really tough situations. I was reassured that, if things were truly bad for him, he would let me know, and also let me help him through a challenge.
When we're both sick, unfortunately, we get competitive. About ten years ago we were sick simultaneously. (Hopefully, the first and last time that happens.) We had a really nasty version of the flu and, when not sleeping, we spent our time trying to out-sick each other.
"Can you get me some water?"
"No, my temperature is 101...you go get the water."
"No way...mine's 102!"...
I suppose we all should have 'Whininess Levels May Vary' stickers on our foreheads.
Do you want constant attention when you're sick? Or do you want to be left alone?
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