So, super hot hubby has been complaining (and I mean complaining) about a pain in his abdomen...not his ass or his side (those would be me but, in his belly...k?) I told him a couple a months ago it was a hernia and he needed to have it checked. You know, with all my medical expertise and all, I am quite capable of self diagnosing...no really, I am!!! For two months, I have heard things like "It hurts after I run." uh DUH... and "I think it is a virus in my intestines." Ummmmm, NOOOOOOOO I said it was a hernia and, HELLLOOOO, of course it hurts when you run. GEEZ. So, he FINALLY went to the Dr. after two months of me telling him what it was and guess what? Yep, HERNIA!!!! Hmmmm...think I need to get myself a scalpel and just scrub in.
He has his surgery scheduled for between his trips...that is another post entirely...and he is getting stressed about it. He doesn't like needles, he doesn't like being put under, he doesn't like having surgery and he doesn't like the idea of a male Dr. handling his junk in any way shape or form. It didn't help matters when I told him I thought the Dr. was H-O-T nor did it help when I told him I could ask to observe the surgery nor did it help when I told him to make sure he wears comfortable, easy on pants. He asked me why that would be important and I didn't hesitate for a second when I said..."Oh when you wake up to them trying to put your pants on you, you might think you are in the frat house again or something." Ya, not really the best thing to say on so many levels. My bad.
The lockdown. (This is NOT a drill)
13 hours ago