My tummy has hurt for days. Nothing horrible but just enough to feel bleh and always wonder if I ate something bad.
Every time I told Rich my tummy felt bad he would say I should go to the doctor. I dismissed that idea, saying “what’s he gonna do? He can’t tell me what’s wrong with my icky tummy. They don’t make icky tummy tests.” That led to playfully pissy discussions on where I got my medical degree and how I would diagnose my belly. My plan was to just stop mentioning it and hoping I went away.
Amazingly I got a doc appt Thursday afternoon. Since I’m rarely sick and don’t have a primary care physician, I’m a new patient. Even when I made the appointment I told the nurse that it was my husband’s idea. I’m surprised he’s not going with me to make sure I go.
But the best part about this is since making the appointment I’ve complained about my stomach non-stop and Rich can’t sigh and roll his eyes anymore but is contractually obligated to console me.