Special Guy started on a course of protease inhibitors. As a result, I'm a sort of protease inhibitor widow. Initially (we're hoping it's 'initially') there's much stomach upset, gas, and poop of a wide array of varieties. And, he's incredibly fatigued. I have to admit that I was getting a wee bit cheesed off. Thinking, when I'm sick--unless I'm really, really sick--no one has any idea because I tough it out. So I sort of shared this with Number Two here at work. He very pointedly said, "I'll gripe and whine all I want to. Having this and knowing that it's not going away is a raw deal, and don't let anyone tell you it's not." Message received! So I'm gonna stop being resentful and self-centered. It's not like Special Guy is asking me to be his nursemaid (which, actually, I'm really good at; an old roommate of mine whom I nursed through the flu with chicken soup and hot foot soaks and massages describes me as 'a spa waiting to happen'). No, all he is asking me to do is to listen patiently while he gripes and whines and maybe... if it wouldn't kill me... to be a little empathetic.