Moments with Sir
Me: (curled up on the couch whimpering) Don’t yell at me, I’m in pain!
Sir: (breathes deeply as if he can suck patience from the air) Let’s try this again. What hurts?
Me: Everything!
Sir:Â That is NOT informative!
Me: My wrists, my elbows, my knees, my toes, my ankles, my hips, my shoulders, my fingers…
Sir: So… your joints…
Me: Don’t patronize me!
Sir: (deep breathing again and possibly counting under his breath) Why didn’t you say you were having a flare?
Me: You’d think I was trying to get out of running!
Sir: I would not!
Me: You always think that!
Sir: That’s only because you always say something hurts…
Me: Something always DOES hurt!
Sir: But not EVERYTHING…
Me: I thought that wasn’t “informative”…
Sub Brother: (brings Advil and a glass of water for me)
Sir: If you’re having a flare you shouldn’t be running!
Me: You TOLD me to run!
Sir: Because you didn’t say you were having a flare!
Me: Because you’d have thought I was trying to get out of running!
Sir: (makes a strange sound)
Sub Brother: (offers Advil to Sir)
Ironically I was not actually trying to be difficult that night, I was just tired and miserable and thinking in circles. Sir can usually manage those times, but every so often he gets that “I just want to beat my head on a wall” look about him…
