I'm About You, Babe

My husband finally went in for his annual physical.
I told him, "Make sure you have him take a look at those funny little  bumps on your forehead. Oh, and ask him about that red spot on your cheek."
Bruce rolled his eyes. He thinks I make a big deal out of nothing.
But I've been married to him for over 33 years and I intend to stay married for at least another thirty years.
He's a man; he won't look after his health.
That's my job. 'Cause I'm all about him.
When he came back from the doctor's, I planted myself in front of him. "Well, what did the doctor say? Is that skin cancer?"
Bruce looked a little sheepish. "He wants me to see a dermatologist."
A few days went by and he still hadn't made the appointment.
So I called and set a date.
I accompanied him to the dermatologist. Not that I was intending to be his "mommy" and go into the exam room, too.
But I wanted to make sure he mentioned all the places on his face that looked suspicious.
Just before he went in to see the doc, I reminded him about the red spot on his cheek.
"What red spot?"
I huffed at him. "The one I've been telling you about for months. Do I hafta come in there with you?  Will you promise to point it out to the doctor?"
Again Bruce gave me the look that said, "Woman, you're making a mountain out of a molehill."
Half an hour later, Bruce came out, handed some form to the receptionist, then smiled at me.
He said nothing.
Nothing?
I noticed that the funny little bumps on his forehead were all very red now.
We stepped out of the office. In man-speak --a totally unsatisfactory type of communication, as far as I'm concerned -- my husband told me that most of the spots on his body were just bumps that crop up as one ages. "It's hereditary."
As if that explained it all.
And in typical Bruce-fashion, that was all I was going to get out of him.
Unless I pressed him.
"So," I pressed, "what about that red spot?"
Bruce didn't look at me as he said, "It's a precancerous lesion. And I also had one on my ear, too."
My husband is a wonderful, kind, affectionate, charismatic man who thanks me for all the things I do for him and around the house.
But he's not ready to thank me for pointing out his little red spot. . . just yet.
I think it bothers him that he's not so invincible afterall.
We came home and he went right into the bathroom to stare at his face.
"I still don't see any red spot on my face."
I poked my head through the doorway, looked at him and chuckled. "of course you can't see it; you're color-blind." (He really is red/green color blind.)
But I'm not color-blind, and I love him very much.
So, even though it bothers him, I'm still going to bug him about seeing the doctor regularly, and mentioning anything that doesn't seem quite right.
The other day, Bruce thanked me for something. I can't remember what it was, but it wasn't the red spot thing.
I gave him a hug. "I'm about you, Babe."

"Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work:
if one falls down, his friend can help him up."(Ecc. 4:9 NIV Bible)