I think it's like asking for directions

Why don't men like to go to the doctor?

Mr. MOM, who is usually a fairly rational person, is laid up in bed with back pain so bad he can't even sit up. But he refuses to call the doctor. And it's not getting better; it's getting worse. "Call the doctor," I said several times before leaving for work. "Mmmnnnghhhh," he replied. An hour after I got to work, I called him. "Did you call the doctor?" I asked. "No," he replied.

"Well, do it."

"What can he do?"

"I don't know. Give you pain medication, a muscle relaxer, tell you to lie on a heating pad, give you some exercises to help out. Something, instead of you just lying there in pain."

"Mmmmnnnggghhhh."

I swear, he wouldn't go to the doctor if his arm fell off. He would just pick it up and ask me if I could try sewing it back on. This is the same man who had chest pain for two days, and when it finally became bad and his jaw was hurting, he decided to look it up on the Internet. Which told him he was having a heart attack. So then and only then did he go to a medical professional.

I'll admit, I want him to go to the doctor and get better quickly for my own selfish reasons. I'm now doing his chores and my chores, and taking care of DOM, and taking care of him. But, most important, WE HAVE A BABYSITTER TONIGHT! If he doesn't get better, then there goes my dream of a leisurely meal and a real movie in a real movie theater. It doesn't happen that often, so when it does, I really, really look forward to it.

So maybe I'll call his doctor myself. It always seems to work with directions.