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Painful Conversations

June 10, 2016

You can have your ache

And keep it too (yourself)



The only reason I wish to not overhear or worse yet, hear of another person’s ailments is that it causes my ears to bleed.

Hopefully,  this isn’t one of those Richard Bach “We teach best what we need to learn most ourselves. ” moments.

I suspect I could handle people wearing their heart on their sleeve,  much better than their ailments in their throats and their infirmaries on the tip of their tongue.

Which usually occurs in a convenience or grocery store with someone you barely recognize.  You give a kind nod,  a friendly smile, and a simple hi, how are you doing?

As pangs of fear and regret surface, knowing you have unwittingly committed to playing response Russian Roulette.

Good,  how are you?  I’m great,  good to see you,  take care.  Ahhhh, perfect.  Bullet dodged.

The other is of course, is some jabbering jeremiad, about a myriad of medical maladies.

Now that I’ve gotten over my lombago, my vercitus, is flaring up again. Ahhhhgh.

The more interesting and evolutionary conversation to engage in,  would be to discuss why some people feel compelled to openly disseminate  revelations of their biological or medical well being.

Writing this makes me think if it happens more often, I should rig up a device to allow some crimson crude to flow from my ears.

That way either the person might leave in disgust, or inquire why my ears are bleeding.

Too which I could simply say,  oh never mind that, it just happens when I hear a bunch of blah blah blah painful pontificating pursuant to elicit a empathetic response.

When you can tell me your vocal chords quit working,  I’ll be glad to hear what you have to say.

The bleeding will stop as soon as we start discussing something relevantly important.

Perhaps it is just a guy thing, as Dr. John Gray of “Men are from Mars, Women are from Women are from Venus” suggests, the men are inclined with the instinctual notion of feeling like they have to “fix” things.

Unfortunately,  I only have a commercial drivers license,  not a medical one and therefore feel helpless.  So ailments you feel compelled to share of which I can do nothing about and contribute nothing to our collective evolution.

One Comment
  1. I actually like this a lot so please don’t think I am some disabled nut job giving you a hard time. Okay. Wait. I am a disabled nut job but I’m not trying to give you a hard time.

    My husband has his CDL as well so I can relate to this in several ways. I thank you to no end for making me realize that I have become this very person and so don’t want to be. It led me to think about the “why” of it all.

    Before becoming disabled I was never at a loss for someone to hang out with or have a beer with or share a movie with. Funny thing is, folks start dropping you like the frigging plague when you become disabled or chronically ill. The four walls of the living room start to feel like solitary confinement. It becomes desperately lonely. Rather, I became desperately lonely. When you are not out in the workplace and the bars, you have a tendency to lose touch with the real world. Your aches and pains become your best friends. So sometimes, when someone makes the awful mistake of asking the dreaded question, I find myself responding with the long version. Similar to this reply!

    I love that book, by the way. One of my all-time favorites. You are right. At the end of the day, men are men and women are women and neither one want to hear about my aches and pains! Lol. That question should come with a disclaimer of sorts. Will have to think on that. Maybe next time you ask that question, you could give them a very serious look at tell them you wish only for the short version in their answer.

    Please don’t try to read between the lines. There are no lines. I really do love the post and very grateful to have found it because it has inspired me to change something about me that I did not realize needed changing. I look forward to reading more of your posts.

    Thank you for sharing this.



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