Me vs. The Man Cold

“A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones.” Proverbs 17:22

I am writing the following as a public service announcement to all prospective brides out there:


Don’t marry him until you know what kind of a sick person he is!!!


And whether or not you LIKE his kind of sick people.


The part about the “in sickness and in health” thing included in our wedding vows has been our (my) albatross. My hub is not a good patient. He’s from Russia where apparently they don’t take any medication for illness. He’s more of a believer in hot tea and honey. In Russia, I think they add vodka too, but we’re dry in this house.


I believe that if God didn’t want us taking Tylenol and Advil, he wouldn’t have made them so effective. Got a fever? They’ll bring it down. Got a headache? Most of the time they’ll take the edge off. Broke your toe? They make a shoe bearable.


Anyway, last night my husband uttered the most horrible words he could have spoken on a night when I had torn out the toilet and floor from the upstairs bathroom…


“I think I might be getting sick,” he said.


Immediately, in panic mode, I went straight for my purse, digging for my stash of ibuprofen. I popped two out, which is the standard dose for a 32YO male. We’ve had the discussion on why he can’t just take one before, and the answer is because he weighs more than a 12YO boy. That’s what I tell him, at least. I’ve seen some good sized 12YO boys.


He was refusing. I was adamant. I’ve lived through this song and dance before. He gets a cold, he goes to bed for three days. I get a cold, take medicine, and continue about normal everyday life until things get really bad and then I hit the Neti Pot. Nobody waits on me hand and foot. Not that they’d want to, though, as I’m more of a mean patient. I’m kind of a bear when I’m sick.


But I’m a worse nurse!


I tried handing him the pills calmly. He said he didn’t need any medicine. I tried throwing them into his mouth while he was talking. He pursed his lips. I tried sticking them up his nose and dousing him with a glass of water. He fought me off.


Now I’m all for letting nature take its course and letting our immune system do its job, but there are reasons why such medicine exists. Our 8YO once got the equivalent of Scarlet Fever and ran a 103 temperature for a week! And that was after giving him the fever reducing medicines. No wonder kids died when they hadn’t been invented yet!


So this morning, I (in my nicest good wife voice) asked him if I should make him some hot tea.


“Yes,” he said, “some of the blackberry kind.”


Just so happened I had berry flavored Theraflu up in the cabinet. Hmmm.


“Does it have honey in it?” he asked before drinking.


“Yep,” I said. But I didn’t offer any further information.


I like to think of it as practice for when I’m slipping him a pill in his supper, or hiding it in a piece of cheese like we do for the dog. I’m pretty sure when he actually needs medication to save his life, I will have to take more drastic measures.


I’m hoping to shave off at least a day from his bedridenness by dosing him up a few times.


For the mean time, though, my hub is STILL in bed sleeping off his illness.


Maybe the vodka isn’t such a bad idea…


“Say to him: ‘Long life to you! Good health to you and your household! And good health to all that is yours!’” 1 Samuel 25:6