I do not like going to the doctor. Something really has to spur me on for me to make an appointment. Somewhere along the way, I became my father. Bad things have to be happening. Really bad things.
Yesterday morning, something on my body decided to go batsh*t crazy. Don't know what it is exactly but I've had it all my life and it's never caused any problems or concerns. It is in a most unfortunate area. Of course. I mean, why wouldn't it be?
I called my lady doctor's office and she was booked all week. The fastest appointment was for this morning with another lady doctor in the same office. Made the appointment and then called the hubby at work to ask if he could take me.
When I said I had just made a doctor's appointment, my husband's voice went all concern-y and he rearranged his schedule so he could take this morning off. He knows me so well.
He drove me to the doctor today. Sat in the waiting room next to me. Constantly patted me on the arm and knee and tried to engage me in conversation. He waited as I was called back and stayed back there forever. Although a big baby, I made the adult decision to let them do things to me. Things with needles and chopping and cauterizing. I came back out into the waiting room all red faced and hair all messed up.
I said, "I'm ready to go now."
He jumped up and was at my side immediately. He opened all the doors for me on our way to the car and didn't make fun of my new walk impersonating a little old man.
He drove me home. Offered to stay with me. I sent him back to work and knew that knowing he was there with me was the only reason the whole experience didn't give me a panic attack.
And that is one of the very many reasons why I love my husband.
That and I know he'll get food for me that I do not have to cook on his way home from work later today.
He's really shining in the husband department today.
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