So, this resolution to speak my mind when I think I'm right. I'll tell you why I made it. I've gone through forty-one years assuming that everyone else had a level of expertise that I lack--that if someone else had a strong opinion about something, or any opinion at all, it must be rooted in some worthwhile evidence. That if I knew anything at all, I would agree. No one else has said this to me; it's all me, talking to myself.
For example: shortly before Christmas, the news said there was a pretty big snowstorm coming. We have a snowblower, a behemoth. I've never used it because it's so big and heavy; that's always been my husband's bailiwick. However, due to his recent pacemaker surgery, he's not supposed to do a lot of pushing or heavy lifting. So he was showing me how to start the snowblower. We hadn't started it yet this winter so there was some priming and such to do. Then, the moment of truth--pulling the cord to start the thing up.
It's a long cord. My husband is not supposed to raise his left arm over his head for a couple of months so as not to dislodge the leads of the pacemaker before they're firmly implanted. He was pulling the cord with his right hand, but still--it was a dramatic and strenuous motion. It occurred to me that it might not be the best idea for him to make that motion, but then I talked myself down: I didn't want to nag him, surely he would not do anything to jeopardize himself. It was only after about a dozen, increasingly strong (and ultimately unsuccessful pulls) that he paused to ponder aloud, "I wonder if it's the best idea for me to be doing this."
Yeah. Turns out his information wasn't any better than mine.
Long story short, I persuaded him to call the cardiologist. When we reached him, the doctor opined that it was probably okay, and told my husband some things that would indicate if it wasn't. While we were waiting for the call back from the doctor, I learned via my beloved Internet that if my husband had dislodged a lead, it would require another expensive surgery of the variety from which he had just spent a month recovering. The insurance company probably would not be as enthusiastic about paying for this one. And instead of spending the holidays with our family, he, the kids and I would spend it in a hospital alone.
In short, the cost of not speaking up is too high, and in more than just financial terms.
So, this year, I've been speaking up in ways large and small. And while I try to be respectful in the process, I don't apologize for my point of view. Speaking up about big things: I told my husband that I recognize it's his health care and his decision, but I don't care for his cardiologist. I don't think he's the best doctor available, and I don't like the way he dismisses my concerns. My husband listened. I don't know what he'll do, but he listened.
Speaking up about small things: A couple of little boys at our bus stop bragged to me, laughing, that they had tricked my son into stepping in dog poop. Now, I know: boys will be boys. They're always tricking each other into stepping into or touching something gross. But I thought it showed a certain amount of snottiness to brag about it to the mother of the kid they'd just tricked. What did they think I was going to do, laugh about it with them? Congratulate them and say, "Boy, you sure showed that dumbass?" I was irritated. My son, though he's older, has never tried to pull such a stunt with these kids. (In fairness, it's not that he's a paragon of virtue; my son likely has Asperger's, and such stunts do not readily occur to him.)
How to speak my mind to these kids without being mean or inappropriate? I only had a few seconds to decide before heading for home, and I did.
I said: "I hope you guys have friends who are just as nice as you are." And I do.
