It always amazes me that most physicians are of the male persuasion, given how dippy men are about taking care of themselves. From patients who won’t take painkillers because they “don’t like the way they make me feel” to a certain cardiologist whose idea of breakfast was a powdered sugar donut (Did they not teach nutrition when you were in school?) it’s no wonder women live longer. The Squire’s left leg has been giving him fits lately, and his neurologist has prescribed amitriptyline. This medication is designed for nerve pain, and it is also an antidepressant. Excellent choice for the man who won’t take them. When he does taken them, they knock him out for the night and generally keep the pain at bay for a day or two. He calls them Dynamite Pills. And avoids taking them. Don’t ask me to explain it.
It was obvious when I came down this morning that The Squire had been awake for some time, and was in a lot of pain.
“Did you take one of those dynamite pills?”
“No.” Said with black clouds and thunder bolts.
Far be it from me to argue with him first thing in the morning, but by the time we finished breakfast I could have explained EXactly why men don’t live as long! I finally told him to go take a pill and go back to bed. He did take a pill, and then went in to read a book in the recliner which is, to be honest, just as effective as going back upstairs. He dozed off in about five minutes and slept for over two hours.
To quote my best friend, “I must love him. I haven’t killed him.”
thisendoftheswamp 
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