It's Gotta Be the Weather

"What New England is, is a state of mind,
a place where dry humor and perpetual disappointment
blend to produce an ironic pessimism
that folks from away find most perplexing."

~ Willem Lange

I don't have much sympathy for someone else's pain. I am not sure if it is because I am a masochist, but if you complain about pain to me, you have to be pretty much dying... or in danger of losing a limb, in order to get sympathy.

Maybe it is partly due to geography.

I was born and raised in New England...a true 3rd generation Yankee... famous for characteristic traits such as thrift, resourcefulness, and my favorite... "determination in the face of adversity".

We are stoic. Self reliant. And it might have something to do with the weather.

Any group of people that chooses to live in a place with weather that is arguably the most varied in the world, including temperature extremes, droughts, flooding, ice storms, blizzards, nor'easters, hurricanes, tornadoes and more... well, we take hardships as a matter of course.

New England is populated by a large group of masochists... weather masochists.

Yankee children are born and bred this way. "Evolution by climate" so to speak. I wonder what Darwin would say...

And then, when you add our Puritan roots? Well let's face it, part of New England's Puritan legacy is self-righteous penance... long cold winters in the New World and all that (see the weather connection again? It is a deep running theme here!)... so a history of forebearance coupled with our evolved weather masochist tendencies, well, Yankees believe pain should be borne with indifference, suffered silently and accepted as just another part of the living experience... like bad weather.

My point to this rambling?

Study Boy ~Limping in the back door with Fuzzy One trailing behind, tail wagging~ Ugh, I slipped on the ice while chasing the AFP (Study Boy's term of affection for the canine member of the family: Annoying Fucking Pooch, shortened to AFP).

Me ~Looking at him critically, noting the way he cradles his right shoulder somewhat pathetically~ Are you alright?

Study Boy ~Grimacing and groaning a bit~ Yeah, I think so. My shoulder hurts a bit though.

Me ~Looking at him more seriously~ What do you mean, "it hurts"? How bad? Can you move it at all? Is the pain unmanageable? Do you think you need to see a doctor?

Study Boy ~Now limping pathetically around the house (Didn't he say shoulder?), his eyes squinting in pain~ Um, I...yeah....ouch!... yeah I can move it. How bad? I'm not sure... it hurts!

Me ~Getting a bit impatient at my usually linguistically gifted spouse~ You're not sure? Jeez...it hurts? What does that mean? Is it excruciating? What kind of pain is it?

Study Boy ~Grimacing and "ouching" under his breath~ Well, no its not what I would call excruciating...

I cut him off with a wave of my hand before he could say anymore and headed for the freezer for an ice pack.

Me: You probably pulled a muscle or strained something. Take this and put it on your shoulder and I'll get you some Motrin. You'll be fine in a day or two.

I spent the next couple of days telling him to suck it up.

Me: "Just ice the damn thing and take more Motrin. You'll be fine, just stop focusing so much on it... and stop talking about it!"

Yeah. And over a week later he was still walking around making those little gasping , sucking in air sounds through gritted teeth. I just couldn't understand why he was being such a baby. He fell in the snow for God's sake!

Me ~After yet another gasp~ Good grief, did you take more Motrin? I thought you said it wasn't a big deal?

Study Boy ~Mumbling a bit~ No... I never said that...

Me: You said it didn't hurt!

Study Boy ~Removing his shirt to show me a rather ugly looking black bruise~ I said it wasn't excruciatingg! I never said it didn't hurt!

Me ~Shaking my head, a bit worried~ Hmm... maybe you should call the doctor. That doesn't look so good. Why didn't you tell me that you were in pain?

Study Boy ~Looking rather miffed~ Well, you made me feel like it shouldn't hurt as much as it does. Like I am some sort of wimp.

Me ~Doing damage control while eyeing the obscene bruise and the funky cockeyed way he held his shoulder~ Oh come on, with how you described it, I thought it was nothing.

Study Boy made an appointment with the family doctor. The day of the appointment, I got a phone call around lunch time. It was Study Boy and I thought I heard a twinge of smugness in his tone:

Study Boy: Well I tore a tendon in my shoulder and he said I am lucky I don't need surgery. ~After pausing for just a moment to let his words sink in, he continued on, his voice definitely taking on a smug tone~ *And* I chipped the bone.

Me ~Not missing a beat~ Now you see? If you had only been more descriptive of your pain, I would have suggested you go see the doctor! You are seriously lacking in the descriptive skills department, you know that?

Study Boy ~Complete silence on the phone for a couple of heartbeats~ Uh huh... it wasn't your total lack of sympathy about my pain then? It was my descriptive skills?

Me ~Squirming in my seat, but determined to see things through~ Erm yeah... well, that and the fact that I am from New England and a bit tougher than you. See, you are from the Midwest and that just isn't the same. Here in New England, they make em tougher.... it's the weather you know... turns us into masochists... a weather masochist of sorts....

I stopped my blathering when he cleared his throat.

Study Boy ~Amused~ Honey, did you just blame your masochism on the weather?

Me ~Non plussed~ Well, not any old weather! New England weather, because you see.....

Yup. Masochism in the northern states? Definitely weather induced.... Yes, well it sounded good in the moment. I was backed up against the wall! I wonder if I should be spanked for telling tall tales..... hmmm.... ;)