Sometimes, I feel like Sheldon from The Big Bang Theory.
I’m not claiming to be a genius, by any stretch. I know I’m witty and smart (um, sometimes), but the extent of my science knowledge is atoms make up everything, and I learned that more from a meme and less from high school science, which shows you we should probably reevaluate the public school systems teaching methods to include memes.
Anyway, back to Sheldon. I can relate to him, in a lot of ways. I don’t have a spot on the couch, I have my spot. Don’t sit there. Don’t even think about it. Everyone knows not to sit in my spot. Friends, family, hell even the dog knows, and he doesn’t know much.
Plus? I have a lot of difficulties admitting I’m wrong.
Probably because I’m never wrong.
I’m also constantly perplexed by how I should feel about something and how I do. Sometimes, I can’t figure it out for myself at all.
Like right now, for example. My poor husband has been experiencing a lot of abdominal pain. For the last 3 nights, he’s been up vomiting and experiencing intense pain that makes him curl up into the fetal position and shake.
Naturally, he’s missed a few days of work because of it. My first response has been to bite down on my tongue. I know he’s in pain, I see that, but…what about work? In this economy, people get fired over everything and anything. Missing shifts, no matter if it’s for a just cause, could just be the nail on the coffin, so to speak. Plus, him being home makes me have to venture from our routine. I’m very serious about our routine, anything that pushes it askew is a cause for alarm. He’s supposed to do this, I’m supposed to do that. This is why I know I’d have trouble “vacationing” because it’s just not my usual routine.
Of course, I am worried about him, but I think I’m suppressing that worry to focus on the whole but you’re missing work worry, because what’s causing him pain could be bad and we do not want me to sit here and envision all the things that could be wrong with him. Nope, bad idea. Especially with Dr. Google constantly within reach. Not with my normally morbid, worse case scenario mind.
He did go to the doctor, and has been told it’s a stomach ulcer. Manageable, but only if he cooperates. He’ll have to change his diet, how he eats (usually one massive meal per day), and quit smoking.
I’ve been telling him for years to stop drinking those terrible Monster energy drinks and to improve how he eats, but he didn’t listen. Hopefully now he will! Nobody likes to be in pain like that, and nobody likes to witness it.
If man colds are bad, try envisioning man with an ulcer. Poor love is miserable, and that miserableness is wearing off on me. I’m very affected by other people’s moods, in case you didn’t know. I may not understand why they’re moods are affecting me so, but damnit they do.
So, Matt has an ulcer (only his doctor didn’t order any tests…so, what?). And Sheldon is my spirit animal. Also? I may have broken something in my wrist, but that’s a story for another day…and an unlikely one at that (says Matt), since I can still move it
with intense amounts of pain.
Update: after I wrote this (and scheduled it), Matt ended up going to the emergency room at my insistence. Since the doctor didn’t run any actual tests and was just going off of a hunch, I wanted him to get thoroughly checked out to rule out his appendix since the symptoms sounded similar to that too. He does have ulcers, and more than one, so he’s off work for the next few days and I’m going to really make sure he changes his diet and eating habits. Plus, he’s quitting smoking. He doesn’t know it yet, but he is. In all seriousness, I’m thankful that it’s not something worse, but sad that he’s in pain and has to make all these life changes. Matt hates life changes almost as much as I do.