My dad could fix anything too. He was a WWII vet. He never complained about any illness.

Even when he was dying of pulmonary fibrosis he never complained. I remember I was about to drive back to the airport when he was weazing - gasping for breath even with oxygen. I asked him if he wanted a hands-on healing. That's what I do for a living when I'm not writing. I was flabbergasted when he said yes. After five minutes he was breathing without strain in a normal rhythm - with oxygen.

My mom too never complained about being ill.

It may have been the New England upbringing thing.