Thursday, June 2, 2011

crisis, compassion and cutting to the chase

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I wouldn't say I'm uncompassionate. Okay? I'm just.... a) squeamish and b) practical. So let's say, for example, that you, or anyone, have a back injury. I will assess the situation. Since I am neither a trained medical professional, a masseuse, or a faith healer (well, I kinda am that, but not always), I will say, practically, "Do you want to go the ER or take some aspirin?" Practical, right?

Over the years, Richy and I have reached an uneasy impasse over this. He will lay in misery and grumble, and I will google his symptoms and offer him ibuprofen. I'm not the foot-rubbing type, see? And when I get sick, I just want to be alone. I want to go over to Bin Laden's place, because I heard it's super empty, and lie on a rug and suffer, alone. So I never really know what to say. "I'm sorry you got run over," I'll say, browsing the sale papers. "Want an aspirin?"

Once every few years, I tell him to suck it up and get on with his life, and then it turns out he really does have severe strep throat, or something else legit.  The rest of the time I tell him to suck it up and get on with his life, and he's okay, and he eventually gets on with his life. 

So today while I was neglecting my motherly duties and hanging out at the library, he texts me that he a) has cut himself b) is fainting c) not super bad cut but d) really fainting. I drive home to find him laid out on the couch like an Irish wake, whiter than white. From the couch to the kitchen, a sequence of bloody footprints. "Maybe this is legit!" I think. "^$%." I think.

I ask him what I should do, and he is inconclusive, because he is in the valley of the shadow, so I call Liz, who is medical, (you should ask her out). She comes straight over and immediately determines that the MOG and I are both weak, weak people, and takes pictures of us fainting around as we try to discuss the injury.

He's okay, although he did have to pull glass out of his foot, which is truly awful. He's back in the basement now, probably writing a song about seeing a tunnel of light. Maybe I should bring him some aspirin. 

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