CRIMSON COMMENTS by Rose McGlew
Why is it that when men get sick, the world is supposed to stop and be aghast at the symptoms they so valiantly endure?
When women get sick everything continues as normal including the laundry, cooking and activities of the household along with any holiday events. For many years, I thought I was the only one who found fault in a husband’s inability to decide whether cold medicine was necessary. But I am only one member of a very large sisterhood. Men are all that way. This is one of those lessons people forget to tell you before you get married. So for all you girls hoping to receive that big diamond under the mistletoe this year, listen up. I consider this a public service announcement.
Paul is a relatively healthy guy but when he does get the flu (a.k.a. the common cold), everyone in the house is required to suffer along with him. The apex of this behavior occurred a couple years ago with the anthrax episode at the Hamilton Post Office. Paul had been in there several weeks before the exposure and immediately felt as if he had a sore throat upon hearing the news. I was grilled for 24 hours about how I felt and, when I remained asymptomatic, he became increasingly worried. Long story short, he was anthrax-free, but the whole situation became sort of a joke between my friend Nancy and me. Now, every time Paul has a cold, Nancy and I joke that Paul’s anthrax has returned.
Well, it returned in full force last week and the cold lingered over the long, four-day Thanksgiving holiday. And so did Paul. And his cough.
Paul dragged himself out of bed each morning, his first words being "Does your throat hurt? Mine hurts." Following my reassurances that I was fine (not that I was, but I would never admit defeat), he began the first paroxysm of the day. He would brush his teeth and begin coughing so hard that I thought he was going to be sick. This would carry on long after I had left the bedroom and, when he finished hacking in our bathroom, Paul would shuffle out to the kitchen and clear his throat for about 15 minutes while I plopped a cup of tea on the table alongside the jar of honey. I left the room.
Amazingly, Thanksgiving at my brother-in-law’s found Paul nearly cough-free. He was able to play Ping-Pong, wrestle with the kids and put away an entire meal without one little cough. Miracle cure? No. As soon as we got in the car to return home, he began again and the 10-minute ride from East Windsor felt about six hours long. He coughed so much and so hard that MY throat actually felt a little scratchy.
Guess who woke up with a sore throat? Guess who ended up with a sinus infection? Guess who still had holiday shopping and laundry and cooking and decorating with the kids to do? Yeah, that would all be me.
Guess who slept for 14 hours? That would NOT be me.
During all the nose-wiping and cough-drop swallowing I was doing, I kept returning to a thought Nancy had given me months ago. Her husband was complaining of a cold that lingered and the tissues he had to carry around all the time. She looked him square in the eye and told him that once he had carried a nine-pound baby around for nine months and then given birth, only then would he ever be allowed to complain. Until then, walk it off my friend. I kept that image in my head and went back to it every time Paul sighed with exhaustion after getting a drink of water.
So, Monday morning rolled around earlier than usual after being up in the middle of the night listening to Paul cough. He, of course, drifted back to sleep and snored his way to the Land of Nod while I lay wide awake sucking on another cough drop and watching the numbers click from 2:33 to 3:17 a.m.
Everyone was doing the usual morning routine and on his way out the door, Paul commented that catching up on all that sleep must have really done the trick, as he was feeling much better. He looked at me in my flannel pajamas with my runny nose and said "Hey, maybe you should lay down and get some rest, too."
Did he mean BEFORE the holidays?
Rose McGlew is a resident of Robbinsville. Her column appears weekly in The Messenger-Press.