I know that you’re the one with the medical degree. I’m just a lowly journalist at The Journal of Life Sciences. But you have to admit, I’m usually faster at guessing a diagnosis than you when we watch House. I’ve also saved you a lot of grief by fielding the calls from your family at all hours seeking medical advice. Seems even being the spouse of a doctor carries a burden.

 

(For the record, everyone knows your sister is a hypochondriac. That’s why it never dawned on me that she could actually be seriously ill the last time she called. I never suspected she would be unable to discern sarcasm from serious medical advice, but it’s good to hear she’s getting better).

 

Despite your superior medical knowledge, I would like to be so bold as to make a few suggestions so that in the future, should I enter a viral stupor again, it might improve your bedside manner.

 

The reason I got into bed with socks, sweats, and a sweatshirt wrapped around my head the other night was because I was having serious chills from what appears to have been a virus. I couldn’t find my ski hat and wasn’t quite up to searching for it. The head wrap was not a fashion statement, but a functional necessity. Despite your stern recriminations, I had no attention, as you suggested, of role playing “Sultan and the harem.” As I have explained to you before, that would require a few more harem girls anyway, which you have made painfully clear is not up for discussion. (Nevertheless, would it really kill you to wear the “I Dream of Genie” get up once in a while?)

 

As you may have come to realize, I was not playing the castanets. That was the sound of my teeth chattering. I know how much you enjoy unwinding at the end of the day with watching the detectives on Law and Order solve some brutal murder. It was not my intent to disturb you. It was clever of you to take the noise-reduction headphones we got for Jonah for his MP3. Although I don’t think its right to give him a gift that’s already been opened and used, so you might want to do something about that before Christmas.

 

It was kind of you to turn to me during a commercial and ask if I took ibuprofen. When I said “gnuff bloto knuf gnarl,” it didn’t mean, “No thank you, I’m fine.” What I actually said was “Please smother me with this pillow.” When you did learn I used acetaminophen instead, your response “Well, you should have taken ibuprofen” was less than helpful. I agree that ibuprofen would have been a good idea.

 

If you see me using acetaminophen, it’s either because we are out of ibuprofen or because I am so close to spewing dinner that I am in fear burning my throat with an acid bath of the wonder drug. Since we purchase ibuprofen in Costco quantities, it’s a safe bet it was the latter. 

 

After my chills subsided, I did stumble my way downstairs in the darkness. I know you don’t like me leaving my things around the house, but sweatpants on a wooden staircase are dangerous. That “racket that woke you up,” was my ride down the bottom of the stairs. I’m not sure what happened next or how long I was unconscious, but I believe the dog dragged me to the living room couch, brought me ibuprofen and a bottle of Pellegrino, and warmed me with his body. I know you don’t like that he helps himself to food left out on the counter, but I say he’s a good dog.

 

Since I had already cleared out my dinner, I felt it would be safe to take the ibuprofen. In fact my head was throbbing and I started heating up. I returned to bed sans clothes (again, not in the hopes of getting a “little action” as you suggested, but because I was burning up). By the way, I was right that it would be a bad idea to take ibuprofen right before throwing up. I know you were upset that my beard hair was clogging the sink, but it’s now cleared. We won’t need the Drano.

 

Here’s my suggestion. In the future, if you see I am in bed and dressed for an evening stroll on the Vatnajokull glacier and unable to move—convulsions don’t count—don’t ask if I need anything. Bring ibuprofen, fluids, and my ski hat—a little pampering would be nice too. 

 

As I tried to drift off to sleep I did think about a recent study from researchers at the University of Rochester just published in the Journal of General Internal Medicine. It surveyed 4,800 patients and also covertly recorded visits by actors posing as patients. It found that empathy is lacking in many exam rooms and that patients view doctors who convey empathy as more trustworthy. Hmmmmm?

 

Ronald Epstein, professor of Family Medicine at the University of Rochester Medical Center and lead researchers said the study supports the notion that “mindfulness is an essential clinical skill.” I’d add, particularly during flu season, it’s not a bad marital skill either.

 

I know you are the darling of the pediatric set and have plenty of drawings, photographs and teddy bears that back up your well deserved reputation as a healer of sick children. Everyone likes to be off duty after a long day, but sometimes I like to be able to appreciate how good you are at what you do first hand.