2/14/2007

Reciprocity

I'm not prone to the usage of many pop culture expressions or slang. Say, like "preggers", "bff", "gaydar", etc. Yes, I do like a little urban lingo, at least my blog self does because I would just get laughed at in real life if I said the word "badunkadunk", as I have in my blog. That said, I can get away with saying, "Oh girl, please" with a slight head wave here because they just think, "She's American. That's how they are." Phew.

Where am I going with this? Though I hate to give in to overrused expressions created by a desperate media, I have to confess to a full and ardent belief in "man flu". I'm sure many of you have experienced this draining and frankly fucking annoying trait in your own partners. DD has recently suffered from it, as her husband had been summoned by the Grim Reaper and granted a reprieve at the final minute. Or so he thought.

My own husband embodies the concept of man flu. He feels as if he is coming down with a cold or the flu, and instantly he is rendered immobile. He must recline, take many fluids, and speak in dramatic tones. Oddly, The Dude has a painful, degenerative hip problem which will probably lead to both hips being replaced by the time he's 45, but that he just gets on with. A slight headache and sore throat? He's dragging himself around the flat like a reanimated corpse, telling me how horrible he feels in three minute increments.

On most occasions, I brush off this annoyance and chalk it up to the fact that men are simply pussies. However, I am on my fourth day of a nasty cold that P. so kindly gave to me, and guess who is seeing the light and hearing the hushed voices of dead relatives ushering to him from beyond? Between my phone call with him at 2.30pm and when he got home at 3.15pm, The Dude magically developed a particularly nasty strain of man flu.

I'll set the stage - P. came down with her cold at the end of last week. Usually a rather delightful baby, she morphed into a snotting, screaming beast. Fine. She's a baby and was in pain. By Sunday, the worst was over for her, but the germs had moved onto me. I woke up Sunday morning with every muscle aching and a very sore throat. The Dude, kind soul that he is, allowed me to sleep in until 10.30am, and then nap for two hours in the afternoon. When he went back to work on Monday morning, I had acquired congestion as well as the existing sore throat and achiness. Despite feeling as if I'd sprinting 30 miles then had my head smacked with an anvil, I looked after Piper all day with no complaint. I woke up with her at 7am that day, and went to bed at 11pm.

I had a rough night on Monday, waking up every half hour or so to blow my nose, chug water, cough, or wipe my very watery eyes. Tuesday morning, knowing the rough day I would have ahead of me, I spent 45 minutes crouched under the duvet, crying and snotting everywhere like the classy lady you know me to be. The Dude attempted to calm me, reminding me that if I could get through the day, I had Wednesday (his half-day) to look forward to. On Wednesday, he would take P. out for a few hours so I could get some much needed rest and silence.

So here we are. Wednesday. I knew my grand plan of blessed sleep was in a shambles as soon as he walked in the door. He shuffled around, and it took about 30 seconds for him to tell me how miserable he felt. I offered to make him food - declined. I said I would get him some meds - shot down. Water? No. He was too far gone and nothing could help him now. Only certain death awaited him.

I spent the rest of the afternoon looking after P., defrosting the freezer, making him some food (eventually consented to), and doing the dishes. In the meantime, he attempted to take a nap (too ill to sleep), eat ("I think I'll just throw it up" - he wasn't), and tell me the many ways in which his malady was rapidly taking over his body. I was even subjected to the very melodramatic, "I think I'm getting the chills. Oh great. And so it begins.", said whilst he was limply sitting on the sofa. Can you imagine? Chills people. Chills. How I'm not spending this very moment picking out a coffin I don't know. I have had a four day headache, a sore throat which makes it difficult to swallow, a 4 pack of tissues a day habit, and I may or may not have pillow earmuffs based on how little I can hear, BUT I still take care of a baby every day and get.on.with.it. Ain't no drama going on here, I just want a fucking nap!

A very humorous moment occurred about an hour ago when The Dude asked me to not use the words "man flu" while he was ill, because it diminishes the seriousness of his ailment. Yes, he was serious. Little did he know that I was blogging about this very subject at the time.

You will be pleased to know that the near-fatal disease has now passed. After resisting food since he arrived home, The Dude treated himself to a little gourmet chicken soup. Not only did he enjoy it, but it cured him instantly. A moment after finishing it he said, "Yeah. That did it. I feel much better now." A missed afternoon of sleep, glorious sleep, and all it would have taken was some chicken soup. Let this be a lesson to you.

P.S. On a different matter entirely, I still am being fucked by Typepad and can't comment on their blogs. I've been on a commenting binge lately, but it has to be everywhere but Typepad. I'm trying to show some love, really. I promise.

17 comments:

statia said...

Have you tried clearing your browser cache and cookies?

But what I really wanted to say, is that for the love of fucking christ, I HATE the word preggers.

DD said...

I can't wait for the next opportune time to use the word "preggers" on Statia's site...

I second her opinion, as well as the overused LOL, LMAO, "preggers with little bean", embies, baby dance, aunt flo, and lord the list can go on and on...much like the man flu.

Now my husband is complaining of knee and hip pain himself. I tell him it's because he's getting old. That usually shuts him up.

I've had a few others mention to me problems with my typepad. Now I'm wondering whether it's me or if it's you (you as in anyone other than me).

Nico said...

You would really think that women would rule the world - not only do we give birth, we can somehow manage to operate while a little under the weather!

Flicka said...

I have to say, Sarge is not a man-flu melodramatic. When I had the flu last year he spent the entire week hiding the fact that he was throwing up in order to make sure I was okay. And then he threw up for six more weeks with hardly a complaint. So I guess I have it pretty good.

I hate the word preggers, too. I think there ought to be a law against it. Maybe we can enact caning or something. Works for Siam, right?

Meg said...

Man-flu. Hmm.

When he is sick, my husbannd literally gets delerious with fever. I just thought it was one of his wussy things, but now I hear he is not the only one?

It's all a little suspect to me....

Alexa said...

Ah yes, the dreaded Man Flu. The Actually has an odd case where any mention of avian flu, etc. in the news media causes him to immediately become ill and begin asking me anxiously to look at his tongue. You have my deepest sympathy, and I hope you get some sleep soon!

Mollywogger said...

Hal usually holds it together pretty well, but he makes damn sure I'm aware of how miserable he feels.

Usually I'm the one who complains like a little girly bitch.

Rachel said...

Oh, MAN FLU. We had that earlier this week. Never mind that when I was sick a couple of weeks ago, I was still able to take care of The Jillian AND do all my normal daily shit like laundry and scrubbing out our [admittedly foul] bathrooms.

But when The Husband gets sick? He didn't even get out of BED on Monday. Oh NO. Whereas I was up and around 24 hours after a c-section, he gets a slight stomach bug and can't move. What a baby.

What really pisses me off about Man Flu is that he refuses to do anything about it. I recommend Alka-Seltzer Plus Cold because it truly is the Wonder Drug, but he refuses. Chicken soup? Refuses. Ginger ale? Refuses (but gets up at 3 AM to get some anyway). At that point, I just give up and go "well DIE then. I can be a single parent!"

Lut C. said...

I think my man is immune. He just takes it like a woman. ;-)

Really, he pops an aspirine, takes to bed and leaves me be.

Bri said...

Thanks for the email the other day. I think Wes is a bit dramatic with his illnesses, too, but since I feel constantly guilty about the fibro and all the things it means I can't do, I try not to whine when he whines.

Millie said...

My man is an amazing man when it comes to many thing but I'm sure whoever invented the term 'man flu' had him in mind. I once had him call the advice nurse line for our hmo when he couldn't decide whether or not to go to work when he had a cold. She laughed at him.

Perhaps next time he's sick I'll send him a link and fix some soup and tell him to suck it up.

cat said...

The man flu is rampant in our home as well. If I even sneaze he will come down with the black plague.

Men... childbirth would kill them, thank the gods we got that job.

rockmama-in-waiting said...

My b.i.l tends to behave like a whiny bear with a toothache when he's ill, but my DH is a brilliant patient. He just lies there like a quiet little mouse, looking cute and pitful, making him MUCH easier to take care of. He doesn't get sick often, but when he does, he gets hit pretty hard, so when he's acting ill, I KNOW that he's really ill.

I think I'm probably a bigger pain in the ass than he is!

Eva said...

We've all been sick here -- so hard to care for others when you're sick yourself, so I'm sorry for you all. My husband's big thing is that when he's sick, he won't take drugs. I worked hard to convince him to take Tylenol the other night and he was shocked that his throat no longer hurt. Go figure!

Hetty Fauxvert said...

I'm with Eva ... my husband doesn't get "man flu" but he completely refuses to take care of himself when something goes wrong. No Tylenol for a sore throat -- no drugs for anything -- and God forbid he should see the doc once in a while to help keep his asthma under control. We had an episode a few months ago when he was having a bad asthma attack in the evening. I repeatedly offered to take him to the emergency room, since his nebulizer wasn't cutting it, but nooo.... "I'll be fine! I'll be fine!" Finally had to call a freakin' ambulance for him at 3 a.m.!!! And of course I got zero sleep that night, not to mention being worried to death. Thanks a heap, buddy.

See? There ARE worse things than man flu! :)

gingajoy said...

I've found myself saying LOL a lot. And each time it makes me a little more nauseas. But it's SO convenient.

And you should *hear* the crap I get away with saying (and the words I get away with mispelling) over here because I am british. Ha! It's really all rather smashing.

I am dead lucky to have a man who does not suffer from this flu. Which is good because there is only room for one pussy-assed whinging bitch around this 'ere 'ouse.

hairyfarmerfamily said...

Oh God, Hubby's exactly the same! I mean, the man is awesome with honest-to-God pain. He happily drills into his own fingernails to relieve under-nail infections. He didn't even blink much when the hockey ball smacked out two of his teeth.
But give him a cold? He is beyond pathetic. He turns into a cowering, shivering huddle that clutches the duvet under his chin, and mainlines lemsips.
You gotta laugh, really.