Aretha Franklin sang about it, Rodney Dangerfield lamented it and even Jesus experienced it; I just don’t get any respect!
This past Saturday morning, while rushing up the stairs, Dave caught his “long toe” under the lip of the top step and tripped onto the upstairs landing. Howling in pain, he cursed the said elongated digit. Having made the same ungraceful landing on the landing, I didn’t think too much more about it.
Later he mentioned that he thought his toe might be broken. “Could be,” I replied, “You should go put some ice on it and keep it elevated for a while. There’s nothing can be done for it but tape it to its neighbor toe if it is broken.”
He had too much to do; needing to run to Lowe’s to get a splash-block for the downspout on the new porch roof. This mission trumped any need of first aid on an ailing toe which told me that his toe couldn’t possible hurt that much if he was willing to walk around a huge big box hardware store.
After returning from Lowe’s and placing the new splash-block, Dave and I both began to ready ourselves for an afternoon barbecue with friends. Still concerned about his toe, which was now beginning to display a tidy bruise at the point of impact, Dave carefully wrapped it in gauze and then taped it together with its neighbor and slipped his foot into his Keenes to keep it protected. “I think I’ll go to the emergency room tomorrow for an x-ray.” he said, “I can feel the bone moving around.” “Does it hurt a lot? Is it throbbing?” Nope. So off we went to our barbecue.
The next morning we went to Mass at 8:30 as usual and then following a brief meeting, we sat and had coffee with friends. We chatted about our plans for our day when Dave announced he was going to the emergency room. Conversation stopped and all eyes turned to him, remembering his cardiac event last year and waiting to hear why he need to go to the emergency room. He said, “I think I broke my toe.” The room gave a collective sigh of relief.
So, after lunch, Dave headed off to the local ER, an acute care center attached to our family clinic. He told me I didn’t need to go with him so I stayed behind taking care of my stuff.
About two and a half hours later he came home. His toe was not broken, just bruised. The doctor instructed him to put some ice on it and keep it elevated and let him know that if it had been broken, they would have only taped it to the neighboring toe.
The feeling of validation that I had recommended the correct course of treatment from the beginning, was short lived. A big part of me felt a bit disrespected. For more than thirty years my children have trusted me for triage advice for all things medical while my husband’ not so much.
It is a curious thing, the mutual trust and respect between spouses. Even after almost forty years there are still some areas of growth required in that area. I’m as certain that Dave was totally unaware that he was “dissing” me as much as I am when I do unto him. The important difference between these types of situations now and then it that now I try to focus on the humor and humanity rather than the emotion. Life stays much more peaceful that way!
I suppose I could always become Dr. Mom, DVM. Izzie and Purrl will still listen to my medical advice. Sometimes.
Sometimes kids just have to learn by their own devices. :>)