DEAR ABBY: I have an older sister I’ll call “Vicky,” who has been a hypochondriac for as long as I can remember. Every sniffle, cough or sneeze is always a dayslong or weekslong complain-a-thon about how sick she is, and sometimes these illnesses or injuries are simply invented for attention.
While this has always been annoying, it was fairly easy to brush it off — until after I married. My husband, “Jay,” a wonderful man, is chronically ill. Like many chronically ill individuals, his life is filled with doctors’ appointments, various treatment plans, trying new medications and a lot of financial stress around how to pay for it all.
