“Just say no” is a lesson that is learned throughout life. However, in my experience with doctors’ visits and my husband, I never thought I would have to use it.

“Would you like to be present for your husband’s physical?”

“What?” I say with a startled expression and look around, expecting that he is speaking to someone behind me.

“It’ll be fun!” the doctor says with a crooked smile. Behind me, I swear I hear the receptionist snorting with laughter.

“Um, OK?” I can handle anything. Right?

We head into the exam room. This should be a breeze for me. I’m not the patient. I sit in a chair by the door, “Hubby” is up on the table and the doctor is on his stool.


Then the doctor’s questioning starts. Not to my husband. To me! “How’s his diet?”

My eyes get big. “He eats three good meals a day with snacks,” I reply.

“What kind of snacks are you feeding him?”

I have not spoon fed anyone since my 30-year-old son was an infant.

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“In my experience, husbands don’t always divulge everything,” he says with his doctor tone.


Aha! My husband lies to doctors! “Let’s just say he doesn’t like fruit, but considers potato chips a vegetable,” I chime in with a grin directed back at my grimacing husband.

The doctor smiles. He knows I’m ready to play the game of “Is He Telling the Truth?”

“Does he exercise?”

“Does sulking when he takes out the trash count?”

“Does he get up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night?”

My husband tries to answer with a resounding, “No.” But, the doctor holds up his hand to silence him.


“Yes, at least once.”

“Have you noticed any hearing deficits?”

“Yes. Especially when I call his name or when I’m asking him to do the dishes. He never hears me until I start yelling.”

“Have you noticed any memory loss?”

“He’s forgotten how to make a sandwich, clean a toilet and where the vacuum cleaner is.” I look at the doctor with a scared expression. “He didn’t know how to turn the headlights on in my car last night.”

From then on, there is discussion of blood pressure, cholesterol and medications. All looks good.


Great! I passed this test. Nothing to it. I think to myself.

“OK, stand up and drop your drawers. Turn your head and cough. Good.” My husband pulls up his pants, zips up, the men shake hands and the physical is over.

Wait, what just happened? Give a girl a chance to pretend to read the 2001 Reader’s Digest article about how this supermodel has a hard time gaining weight.

Before you know it, my husband is leading me out to the car because I’m literally in shock as to what just took place.

He smiles and says, “That wasn’t so bad. Can I go with you for your physical?”

“No.” I say quickly. Just say no.

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