There's Got to be A Morning After...

 (muses) I wonder what happened to Maureen McGovern? Excuse me. 

(after a visit with Google) Well, she's recorded 25 albums in her life and she is a well known Broadway actress. in case you're wondering. She also, sadly, has Alzheimers but interestingly, she has been a long time advocate for music therapy for this population. 

Anyway.

I was good and mad at Tim yesterday. REEEALLY mad. So mad that I couldn't even bring myself to talk to him because I knew that I would yell my head off. It is rare that I get that frustrated with him, but this was one of those times. 

Looking at it head on, I know that what lies beneath all this anger is simple fear. You hear about it all the time. It's not nearly as bad as it was a couple years ago, but you still hear about people dying from severe respiratory symptoms, complications from Covid and RSV. 

Now, we know that Tim does not have Covid. (Not sure about the RSV, or even if he has been tested for it.) But...it is a long held concern of mine. He has had this cough since before Thanksgiving. What would happen if he got covid or RSV on top of whatever this is? (or both ~ my baby grandaughter got both simultaneously before she was three months old.)  So, privately, I worry. If I vocalize these concerns to Tim, he doesn't respond to them. He is not much of a worrier. 

So since before Thanksgiving, we have been having these little debates. 

"Tim, try rubbing Vicks on your chest." ("I don't like the smell of that" or "I don't like the feel of that.")

"Tim, try Mucinex D. It is supposed to loosen the chest congestion so you can cough it out." ("I don't like the taste of it.") 

I go out and find the Mucinex D and bring it home in pill form. The man refuses to take the full dose as prescribed by the packaging.)

I try suggest cough syrup before he goes to bed. He doesn't like the taste. If things get bad, he will go to the kitchen and get the cough syrup and take a swig. He doesn't take the full dose because he doesn't like the taste. 

"Let's try a vaporizer." (It builds up moisure on the windows.")

"You need to see a doctor." ("It's only a cold.") Later when it became obvious that this was no ordinary cold, the reply became "I think it is getting better." Except it didn't. The cough might ease off, but it has never gone away and it consistently returns.)

After days of arguing, he saw a doctor. I had called and made him an appointment.

After the antibiotic and MORE days of arguing, he saw the doctor again. I had called. It should be noted that they were going to order another round of antibiotics. I argued with THEM, saying, "I really think he needs to be seen. I am concerned about the rales. That was when they ordered a sputum culture and the second round of antibiotics. 

The nurse/doctor's wife called to say Tim needed to speak with the doctor about the lab results. When the doctor never called back, her response was "I spoke to your husband MYSELF yesterday." "You did," I agreed, "But you told him he needed to talk to the doctor." Long pause. "Did I?" The phone went on hold. She came back on line and was quite indignant over what she felt were confusing lab results. The doctor called back later and told him that the lab results showed nothing. 

Two months of this really was trying my patience. I had questions about those lab results and no one to ask. No way to get a second opinion since nobody is taking new patients right now. Having this background worry added to a pile of changes and worries going on in our lives right now, and you have a wife who was feeling rather plowed under. 

Not being a worrier, Tim was fine. 

We fast forward to yesterday. I'm tired. He's tired. He renegs on the visit to the walk in, we debate it in our understated way. All day we debate it, in our quiet way. 

And then he changes his mind. We go. Because he made this momentous decision at just the time when William was getting out of school, I wasn't there to get my questions answered, or to push for further testing. He walked out of that having a prescription for treatments that did not work.

I was mad. 

I was mad at his doctor. Mad at the waste of money. Mad at him. 

So I told him. And it was not in the quiet understated way he is used to. I raised my voice. I swore. I ranted. I did not drop it. We spent the night not speaking because it was better that way. We do not need to frighten William. We could hash it out while he was in school the following day.

I slept in another room. If he was choosing to cough all night, that was on him. There was no reason that I should lose sleep over his stubborness. 

(Side note: When I'm mad as hell, I rarely sleep well anyway, so it didn't really make much difference.)

This morning, we both sat on couches looking at each other from the opposite sides of the room. I posed a scenario to him. "Tim, say my car was not acting right and you wanted to have a closer look at it, and I said, "It's fine." I'd be behaving stupidly, don't you think? Because you know a lot more about cars than I do, and not deferring to your judgement in the situation doesn't make sense."

He nodded. 

"So," I continued. "Would you agree that while I don't have a medical degree, I'm a bit more knowledgeable about medical things?"

He nodded. 

"So why have you been fighting me every fucking step of the way for over two months? I feel like I'm dealing with a stubborn child. You won't follow label instructions, you argue every single suggestion I make, meanwhile, you're coughing nonstop and exhausting yourself and by extension, me."

He looked at me silently.

"Why?"

No response. 

Me: "Can you knock off the bullshit?"

He nods.

And that is as close as we are going to get to a detente.