There are probably millions of people out there who believe in the practice of running to the doctor for every sniffle, cough, or bout of diahhrea.
I am one of those people.
Granted, MOST of the time there is actually something wrong with me that can be described as an infection and you can’t buy antibiotics at the drug store. If you could I would skip the $25 copay and just diagnose myself. It’s always one of three things: sinus infection, upper respiratory infection or a urinary tract infection. Okay, so the symptoms of the last one aren’t the same as the first two but those are basically the only illnesses I ever get. I used to get strep throat once a year but I’ve been downgraded to upper respiratory infection which actually sounds worse.
Every morning after I eat breakfast I take a prenatal multi-vitamin (no, I’m not pregnant but prenatals are the BEST vitamins) and a vitamin C supplement. I wash my hands, use hand sanitizer, and I even cover my mouth with my elbow when I cough or sneeze. You’re welcome.
And yet I somehow still get sick.
My husband, however, never gets sick. He takes vitamins too and yes, he washes his hands but he isn’t a germophobe like me. He doesn’t have half-taken prescriptions in the medicine cabinet like I do. In fact, the man hasn’t been to the doctor since he pinched his sciatic nerve two years ago and had to be carried down three flights of stairs by EMT in this weird little chair since he was too tall for the gurney.
Anyway, he never gets sick. And you know why? His body creates its own antibodies like it’s supposed to and hasn’t built up an intolerance to it.
HOWEVER, my never-sick hubby? Is fucking sick. And man, is he being a pain in the ass.
Isn’t that what I’m supposed to say? Men are such babies when they’re sick. Blah blah blah.
In my case? Total bullshit. Jacob has a stomach bug (like what I had in November that killed me for a week) and he’s taking it easy but he still helped me around the house and watched Avery so I could go to the gym. The only time an adult gets to be demanding and lazy is when he’s sick and he’s fucking blowing it. Stay in bed, I encouraged him. I’ll bring you something to drink. I head to the kitchen and he hops up and unloads the dishwasher. Really? Go sit down (after you finish unloading). LET ME TAKE CARE OF YOU!
He has only been whiny once and that was because we were out of ibuprofen and I forgot to pick some up on my way home from running other errands. I eventually got some the next day and he managed to survive until then.
I’m not sure why he’s not being a big baby. Maybe my husband has evolved. From what I read on other women’s blogs and on Twitter it sounds like my husband is superior in many ways.
And you know why?
Because he’s a fucking robot, duh.
No, not really. He’s just amazing and he works so hard for his family that I wonder if he knows how to shut off and just BE. At least while he’s sick he can rest. That is, if he’ll let himself do it.
*Obviously this is incorrect.
