When Shaun and I got married about a zillion years ago, we made certain vows to each other. One of those vows was to nurture and wait on each other hand and foot in case of sickness. (At least I’m pretty sure that’s how they went…those vows were made sooo long ago)
For the most part, we are very good about taking care of each other when one of us is sick. We only run into trouble on those rare occasions when we are both under the weather at the same time. That’s when things can get a little dicey.
I imagine that normal couples would work together to help each other through nasty colds. Obviously we aren’t a normal couple as we seem to have it in our minds that only the sickliest and most pathetic person deserves any sort of sympathy.
When I mentioned to Shaun that my throat was getting sore and scratchy earlier this week, he looked at me in horror. It turned out that his throat had been feeling sore and scratchy too…only I mentioned it first so I got the sympathy points.
We took turns moaning, groaning and exaggerating our symptoms (Well, Shaun exaggerated…mine were all real) in hopes of winning that elusive sympathy reserved only for the truly ill in our home. My sweet girls decided that I was that one that needed to be taken care of the most. (All those years of taking care of them were finally paying off!) After a day or two about an hour of devoted attention, I caught my children rolling their eyes at yet another one of my their father’s pathetic sickbed requests. It wasn’t too long before they quietly disappeared and wouldn’t come back…no matter how hard we rang that little crystal bell.
It took us all week, but Shaun and I have finally managed to regain our health. The better we felt, the more our competitive spirit faded away and we are once again speaking to each other without inserting a few fake coughs.
Only I still have the sniffles, so I win…