I know the word “force” seems a little strong, and generally speaking in a healthy marriage you’d never think of “forcing” your spouse to do anything, but there could come a time when force is needed.
For instance, say your spouse was witness to some injustice, either at work or on the streets, but they were afraid of speaking up. You know speaking up’s the right thing to do, but you can’t seem to convince them. Until you get the bright idea to force them to, either by driving them to the police station or setting up a meeting with their employer and putting them on the spot so they’ll confess what they know. Would you do that?
If you were really in love with a guy who was afraid of commitment, would you “accidentally” get pregnant to force him to marry you? (Yes, I know, it sounds like some plot for a soap opera or made-for-TV movie, but I’ve met a girl or two with this mindset.) Or, as I’ve also heard of happening, get pregnant to force him to stay with you if you’re already married.
I don’t know what circumstance might provoke me to force Wayne to do anything, but Saturday I learned what he would force me to do.
Friday I wrote about something spooky I was facing: a trip to the doctor. Right after I posted that blog, I called to make an appointment and found out she was going to be out all next week and they couldn’t squeeze me in that day.
Also, when I mentioned that in addition to my cough I’d also been experiencing chest pains I wanted her to examine, the receptionist said my best bet was to go to an emergency room because that’s where my doctor would send me anyway if I mentioned chest pains.
I wasn’t having chest pains then. (They come and go.) And my cough had calmed down again. There was no way I was going to the emergency room.
Wayne was not happy with me. Especially when I woke up the next morning and got to coughing so hard I threw up again.
“That’s it. We’re going to the emergency room.”
“The h– we are! I don’t need that.”
I’d read up about whooping cough and had myself convinced if I had it there was nothing they could do for me anyway. They could give me an antibiotic like erythromycin, but it doesn’t really do much to stop the symptoms once they occur. Antibiotics are most effective while in the “incubating the disease” phase. I’m way past that.
Plus, I’ve never been to an emergency room yet (between Wayne, my mom and my dad, I’ve had plenty of ER visits) where needles weren’t used. No way was I going.
“Mr. Meow, grab the rope,” Wayne joked, hoping to add some levity to the situation. “We’re tying Mom up and taking her to the doctor.”
I knew he was kidding, but knowing if I let him take me I was going to get stuck sent me into one of my needle meltdowns. Something Wayne had never seen.
“Oh my gosh. Calm down. It’s going to be okay. I’ll be there with you.”
“I’m not going!”
“You have to. They can make you better.”
“Poking me with a needle is not going to make me better. You don’t understand how embarrassing it is!” (Refer to “When Are You Going to Have Kids?” – Part II for an explanation of the physical symptoms that makes facing needles embarrassing for me.)
By this time I had worked myself up into such a tizzy I was coughing like crazy between tears and gasping for air so bad I almost passed out.
“Oh man, I can’t believe you’re this afraid of needles, babe. What are we going to do with you?”
“Not take me to the ER,” I cried.
Since this entry’s getting a little long, I’ll end with this: Wayne was close to forcing me to go the ER no matter how much of a meltdown I was having. But tomorrow I’ll tell you why he didn’t.
Courtney Mroch writes about animals great and small in Pets and the harmony and strife that encompasses married life in Marriage. For a full listing of her articles click here.
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