Cough, Cough - Has Anyone Even Noticed I am Sick??

So it seems when I am "under the weather" I have no will or skill to write.  I have been trying to put words together for the past 3 days, but I have been nursing myself, all by myself.  Some kind of cold virus hit me and just won't let go.  I will spare you the details.  Let's just say, it ain't pretty.  I work in a world of cough and phlegm at the hospital and even with a level of acceptance of respiratory infections, I disgust myself.  On 30 Rock Liz Lemon coined the term "Lizzing", which described her wetting herself when she laughs.  Well, coughing is just as bad.

I am ashamed to say that when I am sick, I wallow in self-pity.   I downloaded sappy songs and watched a Paul Rudd marathon.  When I started humming Muskrat Love, I knew it was time to hike up the Tylenol Cold and head to bed. Derek is in Barbados, so I had to call him so he could know how awful I sounded.  Then, when I did not get an adequate amount of pity,  I decided I should call my daughter.  I felt someone needed to know I was dying.  Bridget was very understanding.  "Yes Mom, I realize you are sick.  I hear you snizzing.  I am right across the wall in my room".  She then brought me some water and I let it go.

Feel Good Paul Rudd

Now to say I am non-productive when I am sick would be inaccurate. I have bought an entire room of furniture this week, without even leaving my bed.  You have to love Kijiji, the best online classified ad site.  I have a kick ass room full of gorgeous furniture that arrived tonight. It was the best bargaining I ever did.  I made an offer and Michelle accepted.  This was great, as I had no energy to barter.   Couldn't have been simpler until I had to arrange delivery.  This again, I did from my bed.  I have taken "on line shopping" to a whole new level.

What I did when I was sick

As parents, we become pretty good nursemaids for our children. I could tell when the kidlings were sick, just by looking at their eyes and I could estimate their temperature fairly accurately by kissing their forehead.  My mother was good for about 3 days and I am about the same.  Back to back chicken pox nearly did me in.  I am pretty savvy with coughs and colds.  I am not at all comfortable with anything stomach related. I recall a pile of vomit at the top of the stairs that I ignored, hoping it would just go away. I think I could write an entire post on barf, but that would be unpleasant.

BTW NEVER google image "barfing"

When I have patients who are at great risk, should they catch a cold, I am very adamant that they take all measures to avoid the transfer of viruses and bacteria.  Mostly, I tell them, no kissing those little cesspools of  germs they call grandchildren.  When we visited my parents with the 3 kiddlings in Florida, I knew that whatever cold, flu or random infection my parents got in the next 6 months, my kids would be the source.  I had them get flu shots before it was "a thing, but there is just no avoiding a cold when kids blow bubbles out of their noses.

Now husbands get a bad rap on playing the whining, self-pity card.  Many have been known to ask their wife "can you call my mother and let her know I am sick".  Derek is not so much a whiner.  He just goes straight to bed and is not seen for days.  He actually fully recovers quickly and is watching reruns of Battlestar Galactica and The Matrix, "guy TV".  Nothing cures a guy quicker than Trailer Park Boys.  I often wonder if he will ever return to work.  However the difference between me being sick and Derek is that he is always "way sicker". No matter what kind of cold/flu/injury I have, when it hits him, it is much worse, the likes of which I could never know.  Not that being ill is a competition here, but we both saw the doctor years ago with Strep throat and I was damned if I didn't want to compare swabs.  When I get really sick, I have been heard to comment to Derek: "this is really bad.   If you get it, it will probably kill you".

I broke my leg when Kevin was 18 months old and Kate was 3.  Derek met me at the hospital and with one look at my foot hanging off my leg, he almost fell down and the nursing staff was all over taking care of him.  "Poor Guy!!  How must he feel seeing his wife like that.  Come lie down".  I am not sure, but somehow it was about him.   He commented years later that if he ever broke his leg "it would really hurt", unlike my pity fest of 1992.



Now on giving birth there are just too many stories for 1 post.  What is the one act that screams that we woman are incredible troupers, Derek has tried to make all about him.  He can't help it.  He is an Irish storyteller.  However, until he poops a watermelon it's all just blah blah blah.