Rest in Peace
My husband is sick.
And like many men – not all men, but many – who are sick he’s a big fat baby. When I am sick I do not require anyone to take care of me. I like to hole up in a dark place (my bedroom), drink diet ginger ale, eat Cheerios and watch bad television while slipping in and out of consciousness.
My husband wants me to take care of him. He won’t take care of himself. God forbid the man stay home without me a) strongly urging or b) forcing him. He doesn’t take medicine very regularly and he won’t sleep. And he won’t shut up.
We’re in day four of the cold and he’s on my last nerve. I know – I’m a bad wife. But seriously, he’s an adult person.
Deeps: What have you done to me?
Me: I’m sorry I gave you the cold.
Deeps: I’m going to be dead tomorrow.
Me: No you’re not.
Deeps: This isn’t a cold. It’s some kind of crazy disease. Like…. See, there is something wrong. The cat won’t even look at me.
Me: You hate the cat. That’s why she won’t look at you.
Deeps: I have the Asian Cat flu. The cat is trying to kill me.
Me: I don’t think that’s it.
Deeps: Oh God, you’re in on it together.
And he’s extra bitter because I made him flush his brains out with the SinuCleanse three times yesterday.
While he’s still sick I’m trying to get better, keep the house running, go to work and prepare for our friends’ weekend visit.
They’re coming with their two adorable kids and we don’t want to be sick and gross when they get here. Well, I don’t. I can’t say the same for Sickly McWallows-in-his-own-filth. But I feel confident he wants to see everyone without having something creepy oozing out of his nose.
That’s just a guess. Meanwhile, I will try to be a better wife and caregiver. And hope that my patience with my patient can stretch for another few days.
My husband is sick.
And like many men – not all men, but many – who are sick he’s a big fat baby. When I am sick I do not require anyone to take care of me. I like to hole up in a dark place (my bedroom), drink diet ginger ale, eat Cheerios and watch bad television while slipping in and out of consciousness.
My husband wants me to take care of him. He won’t take care of himself. God forbid the man stay home without me a) strongly urging or b) forcing him. He doesn’t take medicine very regularly and he won’t sleep. And he won’t shut up.
We’re in day four of the cold and he’s on my last nerve. I know – I’m a bad wife. But seriously, he’s an adult person.
Deeps: What have you done to me?
Me: I’m sorry I gave you the cold.
Deeps: I’m going to be dead tomorrow.
Me: No you’re not.
Deeps: This isn’t a cold. It’s some kind of crazy disease. Like…. See, there is something wrong. The cat won’t even look at me.
Me: You hate the cat. That’s why she won’t look at you.
Deeps: I have the Asian Cat flu. The cat is trying to kill me.
Me: I don’t think that’s it.
Deeps: Oh God, you’re in on it together.
And he’s extra bitter because I made him flush his brains out with the SinuCleanse three times yesterday.
While he’s still sick I’m trying to get better, keep the house running, go to work and prepare for our friends’ weekend visit.
They’re coming with their two adorable kids and we don’t want to be sick and gross when they get here. Well, I don’t. I can’t say the same for Sickly McWallows-in-his-own-filth. But I feel confident he wants to see everyone without having something creepy oozing out of his nose.
That’s just a guess. Meanwhile, I will try to be a better wife and caregiver. And hope that my patience with my patient can stretch for another few days.
Labels: 2006
4 Comments:
No, seriously... how is it that women are supposedly "the weaker sex" [snort], yet when WE get sick, we just gird our loins or irrigate our sinuses or whatever and get on with it. When a male gets sick, OH MY GOD he's dying.
I've had a cold off and on for A MONTH but Freddie gets a half-day of the sniffles and demands to be taken to a healer or something.
Sissy.
Being a chick is not for the weak, I always say.
Oh my God, this is a beautiful thing. I forced my husband to read it. He laughed, but I could tell he thought you were exaggerating for the humor of it. Ha, I say.
This is a man who, for anything from the sniffles to a pimple or a pulled muscle tells me "I feel like sht" every 15 minutes. (If he always feels like sht, how does he know when he's healthy?)
I was told that he's "feeling better" now - but we'll see. I'm skeptical. Especially since I'm up now because he's coughing his brains out.
Let me know if you need us to bring a "cold-eeze" goody bag with us. And don't worry about us...colds come and go all winter, so there ain't much we can do about it. They've just had their flu boosters, so that's all that matters...But don't let him get my husband sick, or that will really be a pain in the butt.
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