So.. I'm The Devil

Once upon a time there was this man.. let's call him Hubby. When he'd get sick, he'd ignore my sweet, compassionate urging to go to the doctor (yes this means bitching, shut up!) and be ill, sometimes for weeks at a time. If I privately felt he should suffer for being stubborn, well, I kept these thoughts to myself for the most part. Well yes, I'd laugh and do the dance called the Righteous Rumba, which involves a lot of booty shaking and sticking out of the tongue at the WRONG party. Please keep up, ok? Sheesh! I mean seriously! I made the whiny wuss chicken soup and soothed his fevered, brow, and wiped his snotty nose. Did I not deserve to gloat? I did! Pfft! After a month of coughing, sneezing and blowing his mucus infested snozola he finally decided to go to his doctor, so I knew this sick puppy must be feeling really bad.

He took off work, which was another clue. I will say that he's a good man, a strong one, if stupid. He can have a 101 degree fever and still go to work. However, on this day, he calls and says he's going in, and will be up to my work to wait until it's time for his appt. but when I offer to go with him, he informs me very smartly that he is grown and doesn't need ME to go with him. This is despite the fact that he trucks his big butt up in MY last dr. appt, exaggerated and almost got me put on nerve pills until the doctor saw my other meds and thought it unwise to add to it. So, I smile, speak to my boss, who by the way is as evil as me despite being a member of the male sex, bide my time , follow him out the door and wait until my time to strike!

See, Hubby hasn't been to the doctor for over three, count them THREE years. Through msytery aches, backpain, headaches, chest colds, fevers, night sweats, belly aches, chest pains (not heart related, thank goodness) fever, etc, he's refused to go to the doctor. So, now you see why I smiled at the receptionist and stepped through the door behind him. She being a friend of mine (and a fellow evil woman) smiled back and gave me a wink and a thumbs up sign. She probably hogties and drags her man in there once a year. Ha! Anyway, we wait and wait and wait. Hubby isn't good at waiting, but he'd thought to bring a book, so it wasn't that bad. I had one too, a dirty one, which I shove in my purse when the doctor comes in.

I've been thoughtful enough to stick Hubby back against the wall so that I am on one side of the door and now the doc is on the other side, like evil guards against his continued bad health. It all begins so innocently. "My head is stopped up." *cough cough cough* "I have the sinuses."

"I think it's your ___." Doctor puts samples on the desk. "I know it is. And you're gonna take these this time unlike last time cause she's in here now and it's gonna be better in a week, I promise. " Evil smile at me. Oh yes, we understand one another perfectly.

Hubby frowns at the meds as if they're poison. "But but but..I have sinuses."

"I told you this same thing three years ago ." Doctor taps his fingers on table. "Are you having any other problems?"

Hubby shakes his head. I smile and lean forward. "Yes.. let me tell you all about it." And I take a deep breath and begin to list them, quickly without pausing . Ending with this jerkin spell problem he has if he doesn't eat every hour and a half.

Hubby's eyes widen, as does the doctor's smile, when I'm finished he laughs. "Buddy you shouldn't have let her in here with you. But now that you have, we are going to have to make some diet changes." It behooves me to point out that you shouldn't mess with a doctor that knows not only your medical history but also that of your aunt, grandfather and grandmother who are all diabetic. He doesn't know his father's history as he's a stubborn as Hubby and refuses to come in as he's afraid THIS will happen to him, the junk food loving, chicken.

The result is.. he no longer gets to eat what he as a genuine Irish American Redneck considers the 4 basic food groups. Taters, Cornbread, Bread and Sugar. In other words, no fun! Oh the horror! He called his father and told him. The response "You might as well shoot yourself in the head! I'm never goin up there now!" An hour later, he called back and magnanimously offered, "I'll come get that mint chocolate chip ice cream you bought the other day so it won't go to waste." My hubby sweetly offered to cut him if he tried it.

So I'm on a search for low carb, high taste crap to feed this poor deprived man who has informed me that he will weigh 20lbs by the end of the year. I doubt it, not when he figured out today that pork skins have no carbs (oink oink big boy). Now I have to put up with the stinky eye every time we pass the bread aisle at the super market. But he does feel fuller after his high protein meals. I just feel better knowing he'll be around that much longer for me to torment erm.. I mean love.

The Devil in the Blue Scrubs,

Jenna Leigh