(Cross posted to LJ)I told him that I wasn't interested in watching his slow (or not so) decline and that I was struggling to be supportive in this, his time of illness. If he wasn't going to go see his doctor, so be it. He said he was just fine, that he'd been sick like this before and all has turned out just fine in the past. Then he excused himself to cough until he was sick.
"Okay," Wolf said,
"if I'm not feeling better by Tuesday I'll make a doctor's appointment." That was on Sunday.
Monday was a replay of Sunday but at a distance (he's back to living-out during the week).
Yesterday morning he called me sounding chipper, if somewhat raspy.
Wolf: Hey babe, (chokecoughsputterwheeze) -(strangled) hang-on (coughhackcoughchoke.......)
Me: Oh good! You're feeling better.
W: Hey, that's only my second today. Really, I'm waaaaay better.
The conversation concluded after whatever pertinent information had been gathered and given.
The morning carried on in the usual home-schooling manner, with sneaking and attempted subterfuge, and at about 12:30, Wolf called again. It was the usual lunch time call. He sounded more raspy, like he had the day(s) before. I asked him how he was doing. He said it was all good. 'Have a good afternoon; talk to you later; love you and all that'...
Less than five minutes pass when the phone rings, again.
Wolf: I'm gonna call the doctor and find out if I can get a walk in appointment. (click)
Five more minutes brings with it the announcement that the office is closed for lunch and no one will be answering until 1 o'clock. Shortly before 1:00 he calls to ask me if I can please set things up with Doc God as he's already on the road.
Reception says, "Doc God's not on walk in today and he's booked solid except for an appointment at 1:40." There was no way Wolf could get home (one hour trip) and we could get to Vic (another hour trip). We decide that we don't care. We're heading in to the city, appointment or not. Not a really eventful trip. Nice scenery, smooth highway, tearing cough. Just loverly.
Into Vic and down the Highway, left on Cloverdale and straight on 'til morning... Yup, booked solid. We had to wait a whole 8 minutes before Doc God himself calls Wolf back (you're the next contestant...). Even down the hall, through the closed exam room door I can hear the wracking coughs. Yum! Ten minutes pass and he's heading back down the hall, the grim expression of a man who has to spend a small fortune to regain some semblance of health. Not too bad, really. Turns out the good doctor was only willing to give him 2 days worth. Why? I'll explain that one with the following exchange:
Doc God: Why didn't you come in sooner?
Wolf: (grinning and coughing)....
Doc God: (scratching on his prescription pad with a vengeance)...
And if you didn't understand that then you either
are or
have That Guy.
that guy
n.
One who takes care of ones needs, usually medical.
personal idiom:
(I'm/you're/he's) not that guy
- masculine judgment: Only pussies go to the doctor if they aren't bleeding from an artery and I'm not that guy.
- sarcasm: Some people go see someone about coughing up blood but Wolf is not that guy.
The fricken guy has a bronchial asthmatic infection "that some might call pneumonia." Doc God gave only 2 days of meds so that, if it wasn't getting better, he could escort Wolf to the hospital on Thursday. If Wolf says it's getting better and goes in for more antibiotics etc, Doc God gets to call any possible bluff. See, there's a reason we call him Doc God. He is all seeing and all knowing, but I can't confirm possible claims of omnipotence.
