Third Rate Romance
Tell us your funniest relationship disaster story.
But not really a disaster, either.
I got home around 8:30 last night after a full eight-client day at work. Terry was lying on the sofa, covered up with his heavy bathrobe. Odd. He’s usually too warm.
Then I saw the gear on the table in the dining room.
“Do you have another kidney stone?”
“Yeah, I took myself to the ER just after you left for work this morning. Told the nurses not to call you (why do men DO that?) because there was nothing you could do anyway.”
Long story short, they gave him an IV and a couple of prescriptions and sent him home with instructions to drink lots of water.
This morning at seven he asked me to drive him back to the ER. The pain meds weren’t working. You know how a woman in labor pants to get through the pain? Yeah. Like that.
I left him there. Again, there was nothing for me to do, and I have four clients to see today. So I got ready for work, and he called around 8:45 to say he was all doped up and I could come get him. Back to the ER, back home with stronger pain meds and the same instructions as yesterday. Poor guy.
But somehow we always manage to find the humor. When I dropped him off, I hadn’t fixed my hair or makeup and I’d just thrown on a pair of jeans and a tee. When I picked him up, I was ready for work–makeup, jewelry, etc. He says to the nurse, “See the lengths I have to go to in order to get her to dress up?”
Earlier, just as I was getting ready to leave him there, his typical gallows humor emerged. “If I croak, don’t call her until 5 p.m. when she’s done working. Wouldn’t want to disturb her while she’s working.”
You know, there are times when I think a timely tap on the noggin would be in order. A fairly STRONG tap.