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Showing posts from September, 2016

Empathy, what's that?

I don’t know about the rest of you ladies, but whenever my husband — or anyone else in my family for that matter — gets sick with a stomach virus or the flu or a common cold, I’m about as empathetic as a five-pound bag of potatoes. 
When my husband Chris gets sick I’m okay with it for about three hours, but any discomfort he may have that lasts longer than that is apt to start my eyes to rolling. I don’t have any idea why I do this, and, while I’m doing it, I actually realize how mean it is. And I keep right on doing it. 
People my age typically try to work on their problem areas, trying to curb some of their bad habits. Instead, when Chris gets sick I tend NOT to be nice to him. This time it has taken me five days to bring him a glass of ice water or to offer to open a can of soup for him. I’ve watched him go through a giant box of Kleenex, and three rolls of toilet paper after he ran out of the Kleenex. Did I offer to go to the store for more tissues? No. Did I offer to make him so…