Ailment of the week is...........

Mr H is somewhat self obsessed; not particularly in his looks (although he is incapable of walking past a mirror without checking his silver locks!), but more in his body and it's functions. A small spot on his face can grow in his mind into a flesh eating tumour, and he will obsess about it constantly for a couple of weeks until another ailment takes centre stage. He has an overwhelming need to talk about whatever ailment is flavour of the week, and to discuss possible causes, treatments and outcomes, but having worked as a nurse for almost 40 years, I have had my fill of illness, and am not particularly sympathetic. I have told him in no uncertain terms that I have no desire to know about the vagaries of his bowels, or that he has been sick, but he continues to tell me anyway.
The latest ailment has been a cut finger, over a week ago now. It was, admittedly quite a nasty cut, but I cleaned and dressed it, and checked daily to make sure there was no infection there. Initially he worried about whether he should go to A&E, I said "well it's up to you dear, go if you want to, they'll probably give you a tetanus jab", which focussed his mind somewhat and he decided against! However for the past 10 days he has told me at least 10 times a day that
a) it's still sore
b) it's stopped bleeding
c) it's still sore
d) please will I check it

On and on and on. I did offer to put his arm in a sling (tongue in cheek) but he didn't get the irony and said that he'd see how it went! The story of The Boy Who Cried Wolf springs to mind, and I'm sure the day will come when he is seriously ill and I take no notice. Hopefully my training and experience will help, but I have suggested to him that I will put "I told you I was ill" on his gravestone, as did Spike Milligan!

I still don't know whether this is his personality, middle aged man syndrome, extreme male brain, or one of his Aspergers traits, and I suppose it doesn't really matter, it's infuriating, and like having a
child - although my children were and are much more stoical.

The worst thing about all this self obsession, is that if I (foolishly) mention to him that I have an ache or pain somewhere, he dismisses it totally and regales me with a list of his own symptoms,  which are invariably worse than mine; consequently I almost never say anything to him.

I'm just about to resume ironing, he's just called up the stairs to tell me that he thinks his finger is almost healed.  Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhgggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhh I'm going to kill him!