Prego Mr. Oh!!

Mr. Oh is prego. At least that's what his mind is telling his body.

Don't believe me, do you? Here's a list of some of the "symptoms" he's experiencing. Judge for yourself!

• His intake of ice cream has increased at least 10-fold
• His urination patterns have risen in frequency
• There are days he eats as if he won't see food again
• He's gained weight around his mid-section (shhh don't tell him I said so)
• He experiences severe indigestion
• In our first trimester he was exhausted and slept constantly, but he seems to have regained some of his energy

What is most humorous of all these complaints, they usually occur shortly after I've begun to experience (nay complain) them. For example, on my recent trip home to Toronto, my grandmother and I indulged in a bowl of fresh ricotta. Although a favourite of ours, dairy is no longer my friend. Since I don't get such quality time with Nonna, I threw caution to the wind. Within a couple of hours, Mr. Oh stood by me as I winced and moaned about the incredible pain I was experiencing.

After lunch the next day - yes the VERY next day - Mr. Oh complained he wasn't feeling well. He followed this with a serenade of bodily noises. I asked what was wrong, his response accompanied with a pained expression that begged for pity, "Indigestion."

While I try to find the comical underlining of his "symptoms", there have been more times than not when I've wanted to choke him Looney Tunes style. He's not a center-of-attention kinda guy, so it's not that he's after the attention. I think the issue comes down to mind over matter.

See, Mr. Oh is a hypochondriac, a true germaphobe. In the time I have known him he's suspected he has had at least 50 different cancers. At times, he goes to extreme lengths to prove his health, and doctors - in search of a reprieve from his incessant inquiries - have provided him with placebo diagnoses. After experiencing a slight pain in the tummy, he went to the gastroenterologist. Initially, the doctor said it wasn't Irritable Bowl Syndrome (IBS) and so he underwent a series of increasingly invasive tests. With nothing showing up as irregular and with no further tests to perform, the doctor diagnosed Mr. Oh with a mild version of IBS.

I have used this fear of illness as a way to stave me from doing him harm. Since becoming pregnant I've become more intimate with the toilette, visiting it at least once an hour to relieve my bladder. It's truly one of the most annoying side effects I've had to deal with and I complain about it constantly. After yet another visit to the porclain throne, Mr. Oh confesses that he, too, has a greater need for pee. After privately rolling my eyes and heaving a heavy sigh, I welcomed him to my world. Then, with an expression of sheer concern, I told him he just might have an urinary tract infection. The panic showed immediately on his face and he asked what he needed to do. Holding back my giggles, I prescribed cranberry juice and a visit to the doctor. According to Mr. Oh, he consumed several litres of juice while at work and felt better. There was no need for a doctor, I guess.

For years I've explained to Mr. Oh and those who pity him that his illnesses, or rather suspected illnesses, are caused by his mind and not his body reacting to any real invasion. I guess, I've finally proved my case!

Now, I wonder if I invent aches and pains, will he experience them too? Hmmm... now that'll be entertaining!