About two weeks ago my husband came home and complained about chest pain. I dropped everything and wanted to go to the emergency room with him right away, but he decided against it. It only lasted for about 2 or 3 minutes, then he was fine.
CHEST PAIN I fear that word like the devil the holy water. I know my husband has stress at work and we both are in an age where things can happen. Later that night he confessed that he had been feeling chest pain for a few month now -six months to be exact- and I almost lost it.
He said it comes and goes, mostly when he works physical and it never lasts for more than a few minutes. I just looked at him in absolute disbelieve. I am the hermit crab in our family, I am the one who doesn’t talk when she is not feeling well, my husband is supposed to be the crybaby. Not this time.
We almost had an argument, but how can one argue with a guy that complains about chest pain. He said it pretty much started after he gave smoking, what doesn’t make any sense at all. Generally, people feel healthier when they kick the cigarettes to the curb.
I insisted that he made a doctor’s appointment right away, pestered him like only a women can annoy, and succeeded because he got tired of listening to me.
A few days later we went to the medical center. His doctor looked at him and me and said, and I quote: “Well, he hasn’t died the last six months, that’s good news.”
I didn’t know if I should laugh or cry, just shook my head and tried not to smack both of them. We were at the doctor’s office for over an hour. He is an excellent physician, takes his time and goes to the bottom of things. My husbands EKG in resting position was good.
Turns out my husband quit taking his OTC acid reflux medication about two years ago when they raised the price. Last year he quit smoking, gained weight, and he felt more under stress without his cigarette breaks.
Now, a few tests later, we know his heartburn had turned into a “silent acid reflux” what caused him to feel chest pain, mostly shortly after he ate. The extra weight and the stress gave him symptoms nobody would expect. He is back on medication, and the chest pain has disappeared.
Before we left the office, my husband made a remark, something like, “Now, tell her to stop worrying, she was nagging me until I made an appointment, ” and I said something like, “Please, explain to him he is not Superman.”
The doctor smiled, called us a CUTE COUPLE.
Then he looked at my husband and told him how lucky he was. Very sincere he said, “Men with wives who care about them live longer. What you call nagging is their way of showing you how much they love you and how much they care.”
It left me speechless and brought tears to my eyes.
Later I wondered, when did I become the nagging wife? Did it happen slowly when he got older, and his health started to worry me? Is that just the usual development in a marriage that lasts that long?
I can still see myself being the young wife, who vowed to herself she would never be one of “those” wives. You know, the ones who push their husbands to do things.”Nagging” what a word.
I am a nagging woman, that’s a tough one to swallow. I can picture us in 10 years from now. I will chase him with his medicine bottles and will make sure he doesn’t eat what could harm him.
Nobody prepared me for that, but I guess if it means to keep him healthy I will take the title of “The nagging woman.”
Love does come in many forms I suppose.