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Wife embraces hubby’s humor

The Sunday Column

For more than 10 years, you’ve gotten to know my family through this column, most notably, my wife, Ann Marie, who’s been with me for 25 years — 27 if you count dating.

And now, I can safely say, she is almost as funny as me.

Let me take you back a few weeks when I came down with a nasty case of the flu, something I was lucky enough to share with one of my sons, Dominic. He missed about three days of school, but for dramatic purposes here, mine was much worse.

I do not handle being sick well.

I want to be pampered and nurtured, and with a wife who works during the day as a teacher, and who expects you to tough it out unless you are seeing a bright shining light, that can sometimes be hard.

Not only did I miss two days of work, but on my two scheduled days off, I was also sick, so over a seven-day period, I was sick for four of them. How convenient was that? The dictionary does not define the plague that way, but I do.

Not being able to sleep and feeling like I was run over by a car — and not one necessarily driven by either of my two sons, who are currently on their learners permits — I asked my wife to take me to the emergency room.

She came home from school and took me, never once complaining because I know how hard it is to find a sub these days. She’s a peach!

While there, I was checked out, given a blood test and a heart test, too. What I wanted was someone to take a giant mallet and knock me out, like the ones you would see in a Bugs Bunny cartoon, but evidently, that is not part of the medical curriculum these days.

While lying in bed, my wife decided to entertain me by showing me videos on her phone of old Carol Burnett TV shows.

Is it possible to be polite and tell the woman you love, who left work to take care of you, that watching Tim Conway crawl across the screen, or Harvey Korman break character and make Burnett laugh, is not what you’re in the mood for at the moment?

What made it even harder to be mad at her was that she was holding her phone up for me, while I was propped up in my hospital bed so I could watch.

Drifting in and out of sleep, while waiting for my maker, I could still see — and hear — episodes in the background.

The Carol Burnett Show was funny, and it contained some of the best memories of my childhood, but while I was waiting for my life to flash before my eyes, it was being pre-empted by guest Lucille Ball singing, dancing and laughing it up in skit after skit.

I was impressed that Ann Marie didn’t take photos of me and post them on Facebook, though she did send them to our daughter, Julianna, who is studying for a position in the medical field at California (Pa.) University. At least that’s what she told me.

There is a happy ending. I got better. I was treated and released, and here I am writing this column for you. My wife’s boss even bumped into me and told me he heard about me falling ill, and I told him about the whole Carol Burnett thing, and it made him laugh.

But I don’t know if he laughed because of how I told the story, or the fact that she was the architect of the story.

You tell me, Bob Gildea.

Scott Franco of the Mirror sports staff writes a monthly column.

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