Florence Nightingale would be so disappointed

We got back from our trip a week ago and slid head first back into life-as-usual; minus school, plus a blizzard. Over the course of the week, three out of four of us proceeded to contract ailments of one sort or another, the worst of which was DH.

When DH has a headache, he rebukes pain relievers and soldiers on like any invincible male; a sore throat puts a chink in the armor and he starts to whimper and whine; but when he gets a full-blown cold, he’s the very image of defeat and misery itself.

I could see his healthy days were numbered; bacteria and viruses were swarming him like a pack of angry hounds and his immune system was in a compromising state. For the entire month leading up to our vacation, he pulled crazy-long hours at the office. I was certain he’d falter the moment he kicked his feet up by the pool, umbrella drink in hand. Lucky for me, symptoms set in on the last day and plummeted once we got home.

Did I rush to his bed side, Kleenex in one hand, homemade chicken noodle soup in the other? No! Did I drive out during the Christmas blizzard to stock up on mucous-battling, cough-suppressing, elixirs? No! Did I even show sympathy and satisfaction by having him stay in bed all day as I handled the kids, shoveled the snow, unpacked from vacation and restocked our larders? NO!

I was down right callous and annoyed.

What mom, I ask, when afflicted by a nasty cough and drippy nose, would declare herself immobilized and completely useless? None. Most women I know pillage their nearby pharmacies, amass every cold remedy in sight and forge ahead with the tasks required of them. DH,on the other hand, turned our bed covers into a rabbit warren and burrowed in.

By the penultimate day of 2010, the worst was behind him. The reward, my toddler and I got bludgeoned by a nasty little, 24-hour stomach flu. DH rode in on his gallant steed, ordered Chinese take-out, fed, bathed, and put the kids to bed; allthewhile protecting me like Sir Lancelot. He brought me fluids, insisted I lie on the couch, kept the kids from climbing on me and made sure I had everything I needed before tucking me in by 9.

Florence Nightingale of the Year Award went to: DH

Thank God it’s 2011.


3 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. eg
    Jan 03, 2011 @ 11:48:43

    Well, I’d say your strategy worked pretty well! Glad you’re all feeling better. Florence Nightingale didn’t have small children to look after.


  2. slightlywonky
    Jan 03, 2011 @ 12:34:50

    So true! I often forget to even try some cold medicine. I’m glad that he came through for you when you were sick. He did a fabulous trip for you on your birthday, so maybe a little cold “drama” is okay once in a while…(okay, just ONCE).


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