Funny thing about that -- i.e., being sick -- I've often heard of men who are babies about being sick, and men who are idiots and won't go to the doctor. DH isn't an idiot (well, not about his health *g*) and he isn't a baby. What he is, God love him, is a nice person who doesn't want everyone around him to feel crummy just because he does. That is a very endearing quality, and one I would like to do a better job of embracing in the future.
To help remind myself to try to do this, I think I may have to break out the big guns and adopt one of the more annoying habits my mother had when I was growing up: quotable quotes. When I was a kid, my mother used to drive me batshit with quotes. I would do a crappy job of making up the bed and she would say, "A job worth doing is worth doing well." While I was remaking the bed, my inner-adult would be screaming, "Argggh! Making the bed is not worth doing at all" while imagining myself violently beating my head against the wall. Once I was on my own, I gave up both quotable quotes and making the bed, with no regrets till yesterday when I worked out that my husband, who'd said nothing, was utterly miserable and he hadn't mentioned it because he didn't want to make me miserable too. That immediately reminded me of one Mother's Maxims (courtesy of Samuel Johnson):
To hear complaints is wearisome alike to the wretched and the happy.
DH didn't pretend not to be sick. He didn't deny it. He just didn't expend a lot of energy lamenting it. Of course that meant I took it very seriously indeed. (If I start whingeing about having a headache, it's probably a garden-variety headache, but if DH does, it's a lot more likely to be a stroke!) It was a good lesson in how to be a better person, not to mention a good reminder of the importance of differentiating between little woes and big ones.
Dang. Mother was right about something after all.