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Carol Perkins: Blindsided Previous Column: Running from Grief By Carol Perkins When it comes to getting Guy to take care of his health, I have to be tricky by making it appear to be his idea, stressing my concerns, and threatening him with calling our daughter. Sometimes, I blindside him, but it didn't work this time. Here's what happened. I had an appointment with my primary care doctor for an update on my blood work and the results of my latest chest x-ray. Guy insisted on "Driving Miss Daisy" because he thought I was weak. I ended up driving. Before leaving, I noticed Guy was sitting quietly in his recliner. His look told me he was having yet another "chest" situation that required nitro pills. With no results, he has had numerous tests/trips to his cardiologist in Louisville and has convinced himself it is "nothing." While he was popping the second pill, I stepped outside and called our Bowling Green doctor's office and asked if the doctor could see Guy at the same time as he saw me. I whispered into their answering machine. On our way to Bowling Green, my phone rang, which was synced with the radio, so I might as well have told him. "He needs to come early for an EKG." As we cruised down I- 65 with the nurse on the phone and him waving in protest as daggers shot from his eyes, I assured her we were on our way. After he ranted for a few minutes, I relentlessly argued that I didn't want to wake up with a dead body next to me. (That got his attention). My chest x-ray was clear, my blood work was good, and his EKG was perfect, but the doctor suggested (after I mentioned it) that he might need to consider having a cardiologist closer to home to find out what was going on with these "spells." Bingo! On the way home, Guy announced, "I'm not having that wire run up my arm again." I responded, "You'll do whatever the doctor says to get to the bottom of this!" He reminds me often that when we were dating, I wasn't pushy. I remind him I didn't know how hardheaded he was back then. Guess we both got tricked, but I have the last word-this time. He still isn't happy. You can contact Carol at carolperkins06@gmail.com. This story was posted on 2025-05-11 11:24:59
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Have comments or corrections for this story? Use our contact form and let us know. More articles from topic Carol Perkins:
Carol Perkins: Running from Grief Carol Perkins: I wonder Carol Perkins: Storms and feather beds Carol Perkins: The Stretch Stitch Carol Perkins: On the Road Again Carol Perkins: Trying to leave Carol Perkins: The Recipe Carol Perkins: It never dawned on me Carol Perkins: Worn Boots Carol Perkins: The Magnet View even more articles in topic Carol Perkins |
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