You've probably figured this out already, but just in case there's any confusion about this fact, let me clarify: I am not a doctor.
Shocking, I know.
The college I attended is well known for being a nursing school -- so I went ahead and got a liberal arts degree from them . . . see above comment about not being a doctor -- and when people ask what college I attended, but don't bother following up to ask about my degree or career, they sometimes assume I'm a nurse.
Okay, stop laughing.
(Oh, and for the record, Alpha Chi actually was the name of the dorm hall I lived in during college. While Alpha Chi once was a sorority at my school, the sorority ended long before my time when someone died, but the name lived on. Sorry, no sorority sister stories here!)
While I have a couple brilliant friends who just graduated with their M.D.s (Congrats Sandi and Donna!), I am not a doctor, or a nurse, for a myriad of reasons. Namely, while I consider myself a patient, understanding person, I don't have a whole lot of empathy for those feeling a little under the weather. In fact, on Friday I was accused of "not having a sympathetic bone in my body." Harsh, but probably true.
Andy's not been feeling well lately and every time I pass the bedroom door and spy him lying, pale-faced under the crumpled comforter, it takes me clenching every nerve in my body not to bellow into the room, "SUCK IT UP!"
While Andy would most likely fluff up my pillows, bring me a cool washcloth to lay across my feverish forehead and make some homemade chicken broth to spoon into my mouth if I were ill, I just usually toss a glass of flat 7-Up at the ill person and ask repeatedly if they're feeling any better yet.
I have vivid memories of my father lying on his back on the living room floor when I was little, suffering his way through the flu without any painkillers. I come from a family that, unless you count a genetic disposition for high cholesterol, doesn't get sick too often. A head cold is usually about as ill as we get and that's something you can just power through as long as you have enough Kleenex at hand. We deal it by not dealing it. Whenever someone consistently complains of headaches or backaches or
Sometimes my "we all deal with crappy stuff . . . get over it!" attitude just isn't what an ailing person wants to hear. And sometimes, yes, I wish I had a little more of a "Chicken Soup" outlook on life.
But I am not the doctor.
Still, feel better Andy.