"Honey, I have green poop."
Announcements like this used to surprise me. Now I know that I'm married to a man who doesn't mind discussing the inner workings of his bowels, and who isn't squeamish regarding bodily functions.
"Really? How long has this been going on?"
It should be noted that this reply of mine verges on the heroic. My family doesn't talk about bodily functions, and I took their aversions to whole new levels prior to marriage. I work in a hospital, but I don't like talking about excrement, saliva, mucous, or urine. I can handle blood. (I'm very proud of my ability to handle blood.) After 10 months of marriage, I was at last calm enough to respond to poop information from my husband without an exclamation of horror.
"Probably about two weeks."
"Two weeks! Why am I just hearing about this?"
"Well, it's happened before, but it's always gone away--this time it hasn't gone away..."
"Okay, but two weeks?! Scott, I am your wife. I need to know these things." (Actually, I don't. I'd be perfectly fine never knowing them, but my husband seems to view concern about bathroom issues as a practical manifestation of love.)
"Well, I'm going to figure out what's wrong with you. Where's my computer?" I have now put down my toothbrush and am digging around on my side of the bed for my precious Mac.
"Oh, no, honey... Not Google. Please don't Google "green poop.""
But I was determined. I have spent a large part of my marriage trying to avoid topics about poo, but recognizing that my husband shared this confidence in love, I decided to solve his problem. Isn't that why guys share information? To solve problems? If a girl had told me this, I would have let her talk and worry and steam until she calmed herself down, but apparently men communicate in order to solve problems, not as a vent to their emotions. See? I'm learning.
"Okay... google: "green poop." Let's see..."
"I think that's going to be too general a term."
"Nope. Look. Green poo... Oooh! You could be allergic to gluten. Celiac's disease. I'm sure you have Celiac's disease."
"I've eaten wheat my whole life."
"Yes, and you've had green poo your whole life... Plus, see--it says it can develop at any time."
"Honey, I don't have Celiac's disease."
"Oh, look-- irritable bowel syndrome. Okay. That totally makes sense. I'd believe that you have IBS."
"I don't have IBS."
"It says gas, bloating, pain, green poo..."
"I don't have bloating, and I'm not in pain."
"I still think it could be IBS... Oh, oh, oh! Liver disease! You could totally have liver disease."
"Honey. There's nothing wrong with my liver."
"Oh my word, you're going to die of liver disease. I can see it. It doesn't always come from drinking, you know. You can just get it. Maybe you have a weak liver."
"I don't have a weak liver. Please close the computer."
"You know, WebMD says that there's only a small chance it's cancer. More than likely it's not cancer. Isn't that nice, honey? You don't have cancer!"
"I wasn't laboring under the delusion that I had cancer. Honey, I'm tired, please stop."
"Okay... how do we treat liver disease..."
"Courtney."
"Multi-vitamins. With iodine. Okay. Iodine... Hmmm. I can go to Target tomorrow and get some."
"Courtney."
"What if I have to live all alone the rest of my life because you die of liver disease? Thanks a lot for marrying me. I get less than one year, and then you die. I'm banking on getting at least eighty years out of this marriage, and then you go a bail early."
There was silence. And then a sigh.
"I do not have liver disease. I am not going to die. You can get me vitamins if you want. Please close the computer. You are not a doctor. We are going to sleep."
Next time he says he has "green poop" I guess I'm just supposed to say, "Huh. No way. Can you grab my slippers on your way up the stairs?"
Got it.
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