testing the theory of 'just what the doctor ordered'

When my husband gets sick, I tend to be as nurturing and caring as I can be while he pushes himself back toward health. I make sure he stays hydrated, eats right when he feels like eating, and stays on a meds schedule.

If it weren't for the fact I hate blood, can't handle anyone vomiting, and OK, have, on occasion suggested he take his stuffed up, lung ripped body down to the couch so I can get some sleep (I'm not proud, OK? I like beds. I like sleep. Beds + sleep = bliss), I could totally be a nurse.

Wait! Being a nurse might sometimes involve bodily fluids other than vomit and blood, right? OK. I couldn't be a nurse, then. Definitely not.

But I can be a good wife, so yes, when my husband is ill, I do take care of him and I do sympathize when he feels he's going to die by assuring him that under no circumstance is a cold going to kill him. And then I'm usually all, "Give me a break! I pushed two kids out of my body without pain numbing potions so just maybe zip it on the whole 'My guts feel like they've been yanked from my body through my nose, stomped on, set on fire, then shoved back in by a claw-handed rabid animal,' business, OK mister?"

Seriously. Sometimes the dude can be a little whiney. Sheesh!

So, ahem. Where were we? Oh, yes. I take care of my husband when he's sick. This doesn't, however, mean I (finger quotes) take care of him (finger quotes) when he's sick. Wink wink (because I say that in my head when I allude to the sexy sexiness). I've yet to read any journals of medicine that say a lack of anything sexy will kill you when you're recuperating from a generic illness like the flu or a cold. Besides, having him hack that yanked out lung across my back or in my face? Not freakin' cool!

But today? Today the tables are turned, my friends. Today I woke up with a raging sore throat and plugged up nose and itchy throat. A slurry of symptoms brought to a head from the cold I felt come on yesterday afternoon. I'm quite the sight, and I sound very alluring with the husky, yet whispery voice the sore throat has necessitated.

I came downstairs this morning hoping my husband would jump to my aid and shower me in Daytime Nyquil and blankets warmed in the dryer. I would do the same for him, you see (or maybe you wouldn't actually see, because that intent sometimes never makes it out of the file marked "good ideas, but eh, whatever" in my head, and if you could actually see, then I'm clearly sicker than I thought).

This is what I got instead:

Me: Cough, cough, ugh. Rattle. Cough, cough, oh, ouch.
Him: Stands up. Stretches. Smirks. Pats his down there dingle dangle. Looks at me, all "And so?"
Me: Eye (cough, hack, ouch!) roll.
Him: Thinks maybe she didn't get the message. Lowers waistband of pajama pants. Shakes down there dingle dangle at her. Smirks.
Me: "Are you (cough, sniff, sniff, blow, sniff, cough, ouch!) kidding me with this?"
Him: Shake. Shake. Flop. Shake. Smirk. Eyebrow raise. Wiggle. Shake.
Me: "I have a sore (cough, cough, ouch!!!, cough) throat and you want me to do that?"
Him: "It's nature's...."
Me: "DO NOT say it's nature's elixar and/or cure!!!" (cough, ouch, sniff, blow, sniff, ouch, cough)Him: Pat. Pat. Pat. Shake. Dangle. Shake. Pat. Flip. Twist. Smirk. Flop. Shake.
Me: Blank stare. Meds coursing through my system. Hallucinating. Pretty birds. Flowers. Cute men. No cares. Cough. Cough. Rattle. Ouch.
Him: "So, whataya think?" Pats down there dingle dangle again. Again. Again. Again.
Me: Cough. "I think you don't - cough, cough, ouch!, cough, sniff, blow, ouch!, cough - really need me in this study you've got going on?"

Alas, he has spent the morning shaking his thing at me.

All. Morning.

All.

(And again just now!)

Nevermind he seems to have not yet realized my stuffed up nose would prevent me from breathing, thus leaving him with the potential for an entirely different medical tragedy on his hands if I suddenly felt the need to partake of this wacky science of his!

Seriously. This is how the tables turn and he opts to try and take care of me!! By getting a little cared for himself.

Well done, Loving Husband, M.D. Well done. Your co-payment is in the mail.