This past week a desperate young mother came to my office, two small children in tow. With a baby cutting teeth, a toddler fighting his toilet training and a husband at home complaining her sex drive was too low, my patient con-fessed she felt utterly overwhelmed. She wondered if something was wrong with her hormones. Or maybe she needed an antidepressant.

But I knew her real problem. Unlike her husband, my patient was missing the key ingredient that makes life easier for many men.

She was missing a wife.

Imagine having someone else taking care of the children, someone else caring for the home - even someone else carrying the pregnancies. No morning sickness, no stretch marks, no pain of labor. Life would be grand!

A husband repays these labors by giving a wife his support and fidelity and hard work. It goes without saying that having a wife is easier than being a wife.

But from a man’s perspective, not only does a wife at home make life better – one at work is pretty handy, too.

For the past nine years, Danielle Murphy has been my medical assistant, instrumental in helping me take care of my patients. She expertly handles the work of two people; patients trust and love her. She has been truly indispensible to me.

The only problem I have encountered with Danielle is that she won’t put up with any of my…crap.

“Married” couples learn to read each other’s facial expressions. If Danielle is busy and I ask a distracting question, her eyebrows will raise. If I continue interrupting, a jaw muscle will quiver on one side of her thin, pretty face. Subsequent to that, I will see Danielle raise her index finger in warning. A proper Southern girl, Danielle never uses profanity. But that sassy finger of hers speaks volumes.

I’m not sure what happens after the finger; I’ve never had the guts to find out.

It’s funny how your “marriage” partner influences you over the years. Danielle, for instance, has trained me to shy away from the excessive gratitude of patients. One day when I had several people waiting, I was standing in the hall with a particularly effusive patient who was ready to check out. This patient began detailing to my staff what a wonderful job I did during her hospitalization, and how good she was feeling. Danielle, standing behind her, began glaring at me, simultaneously gesturing with her hand for me to move along.

When my patient continued with her compliments, I felt my muscles tighten with embarrassment. Apprehensively I looked at Danielle to see how she was taking it.

Danielle sighed silently and rolled her eyes. Then she stuck her fingers down her throat and pantomimed the gag sign. I couldn’t help but laugh.

Danielle has recently been promoted to management, exchanging her scrubs for a suit, and our nine years of daily work together have come to a close. Two excellent medical assistants, Whitney Jarrett and Helen Montelongo, are taking her place. I imagine it will be some time before I can read their facial expressions as easily as I can Danielle’s.

The first few years we might even have to talk to each other.