You know who you are. You expect your wives to make doctor appointments, to do the followup work, to pay attention during the visits.
And when information gets distorted or misinterpreted, you blame your wives.
Oh, most of the time it’s like a little girl being afraid of spiders. It’s silly, but almost cute. You’re so helpless! So incapable!
I talk to the nurses and receptionists at the doctors’ offices. We laugh at you. Their estimates are that 50% of men have their wives call. 50%! Just think how many little whining crybabies that adds up to!
Oh, we women have something to answer for, too. Yes, it’s easier just to do it than to have it not get done, but we have allowed these stupid men to turn us into their mommies.
So I am to blame, in part, for this weekend. I am to blame because I didn’t force my stupid man to call his doctor in the first place. And when he complained that I gave the wrong information, I didn’t smother him, then and there, with potting soil.
And so, when we get results back from tests that say that his heart is damaged, I’ll accept some blame for not forcing him to take responsibility for his own life.
Some blame, but not all of it. Not most of it. Ten percent? Yes, that sounds about right.
The rest of it falls squarely on him. And I hope the rest of you stupid, whiny men get precisely the healthcare you deserve.