Get that shit outta there!

Done.

I did my obligatory schmooze, party, smile it up time.

There was one more we were going to go to today, but Papi is yet again not well.

I haven't really told you about it, but my love has had 2 visits to emergency to deal with post-surgery infections.

The first visit was for an infection in the walls leading to the no longer there uterus, ovaries and cervix.

That one was given antibiotics and we were sent away.

The second one was for a urinary tract infection.

Again, more antibiotics and sent away.

Well, my love is now on number three of 'bad news', only we don't know what it is, because Papi refuses to go in to ER or a walk in clinic.

Enter: the most stubborn spouse on this here planet.

Stubborn doesn't really even scratch the surface.

Cantankerous.

Ornery.

Unreasonable.

These can all be added to the Papi list.

This time, it seems like my love has backup going on and can't get Mr. Hankey the Christmas Poo outta there!

To me, this is an issue.

You gotta get that shit outta there!

Literally.

However, mi esposo is afraid they'll do yet another pelvic exam.  This doesn't sit well with my love, so here I sit, worrying about what's going on in there.

It's times like this that I wish I could drug Papi, then drag his lifeless body by his leg hair to the car.

Ah, the joys of marriage.

"Honey, you have to stop drinking the soda!"

I hear, "I don't want to hear this right now."

So, I reply with, "I don't care.  My love, it's time you started taking care of your body."

I'm bombarded with a stressed face, eyebrows rising higher and closer to his hair line, along with a, "Honey, I don't need to be lectured right now."

Well, now my love is in enough pain that we'll be taking a trip to the clinic.

Phew.

Good gawd.

We're on round number three.

Please heal, Papi.

I want my baby back.