Then they might actually have a clue what pain really is.
Okay, so my husband has pulled groin muscle. I get it. I am sorry, honey. But it’s been three weeks now.
First, the pitiful declaration of ongoing pain and detailed explanation of where and how far it extends to the back of the leg. Next, the amped-up google search to identify why, what, when, where, and how long? After that, the heating pad, the ice, the ibuprofen, the daily reports.
“Today, it’s 20% better,” he said after two and a half weeks. “I can feel it,” he declared, before launching into the litany of symptoms, cures, and pointing to it as the reason he has been comatose on the couch most nights after work. Also, it is most certainly the reason he has been depressed, complaining, and unwilling to exercise.
To his credit, he has walked around our neighborhood rather often, considering his plight. I get a full report on the State of the Groin muscle the minute he enters the door afterward, too.
An added bonus.
“Honey, it’s probably 35-1/2% better today! For instance, if ‘well’ is 100%, then I am 15-1/2% further along in the healing process, because yesterday it was only 20% better!” After this stellar announcement, he walks away, rubbing and slightly favoring his right leg.
I am thinking, if I had a pulled groin muscle (do women even GET pulled groin muscles?) I would pop about three ibuprofen, lighten up on my workouts for a while, and ignore it. My comments to my husband, if I even cared to share it (because women are tough and simply keep going – just sayin’), would be: “Wow, I think I pulled something.”
That would be it.
So now I am faced with my own issues in the face of my husband’s pulled groin muscle: how to respond in a kind and compassionate way without letting on that silently I am composing the most sarcastic remarks ever. (I sure hope my husband does not read this, because so far, I have done a pretty good job appearing concerned and compassionate. This includes pitying expressions, getting ibuprofen and water for him, listening to the State of the Groin reports, and other things a wife should not mention in a blog.)
At this point, the State of the Groin report is up to 50%. He is smiling more, he almost has the ole’ bounce back in his step, and miraculously, his job and life in general are more appealing.
I am very relieved. At first, I didn’t really think the groin muscle was the cause of all his woes. I thought he might be sliding into a middle-aged-man-at-the-south-side-of-fifty, midlife depression. I was somewhat worried about this two weeks in. Then I realized, incredulously, that it really was ALL BECAUSE OF THE PULLED GROIN MUSCLE.
I am thinking, are you kidding me?
I wonder if I could pull that off. Can you see it? A woman asking, “Honey,” (voice querulous, shaky) can you, I mean, could you possibly, um…bring me ibuprofen and water? I’m a little (cough cough) sore.”
Or “I don’t think I’m up to anything but laying on the couch tonight. Could you fix dinner, clean the kitchen, do the laundry, listen to my latest State of the Groin report, and bring me the computer so I can check my symptoms for the 1,014th time? (Cough cough) Thanks. I am SO sore.”
Um, no. Women are made of sterner stuff. At least where pulled muscles are concerned.
If he’d had a hernia, for instance, or a definitively serious condition, I would have exhibited ACTUAL compassion, mercy and pity, because I am not heartless and love my husband and want him to feel good. However, after three weeks and extensive research and the certainty that it is not, indeed, serious; I am about to throw compassion out the door and utilize the ‘Coach’ technique.
The ‘Coach’ technique is a big, fat, fail with women, but seems to work wonders with men. Things like, “You’re just a big wuss! What do you think you’re doin’, lyin’ there on the couch? GET UP! GET GOING! BE A MAN!” And et cetera.
Okay, I am not really going to say those things, but it does make me feel better to silently think them when I get the latest State of the Groin report.
And honey, if you read this, remember, humor articles are typically 50% exaggeration. Honest.
Really, they are.