The Hubby, this week, has one mother of a head cold. It just popped up outta nowhere two days ago. He's the one that is sick, so why is it that I have the persevering headache?
The first night of him hacking, coughing, sneezing, roller over and over and over, blowing his nose (used up almost a whole roll of Toilet paper, NO LIE!), getting up to get something to drink, and so on left not only him, but myself as well, very tired the next day. I don't know about him, but I felt like I was waking up from the mother of all parties but couldn't remember if it was fun or not. Not cool man, absolutely not cool.
Something some people might not know about The Hubby is that he hates, absolutely hates taking over the counter medicine. Shit, he hates taking any medicine. He has not actually been to the doctor's office as a patient in the decade or so that I've know him. Ever. So after that first night, I begged him to take something for his cold so he could at least sleep. Oh, and me too, I would like to sleep also, if that would be all right with him. I told him it was ok, if he wanted to be a martyr, but he would have to do it on the couch, I was fucking tired.
On his way home from work last night he stopped and bought some NyQuil. Boy, when he falls off the non-medicine wagon, he doesn't mess around. This stuff claims to be "The Nightime, Sniffling, Sneezing, Coughing, Aching, Stuffyhead, Fever, So-You-Can-Rest Medicine.". Too bad it doesn't last the normal 8 hours or so that a person might want to sleep. Too bad that it is not the stuff it used to be, the stuff Denis Leary used to sing praises about.
Dennis Leary - NyQuil - watch more funny videos
Instead, it lasts about 4 hours, then *poof* nothing. Around 3 AM, the Snot Monster awoke and I had to whine, cajole, wheedle, beg, and threaten just to get him to take some more. He finally took some when I played the martyr card. "It's okay," I sighed and said. "I understand that you think OTC meds are bad for you. I will just lay over here on my side of the bed, trying not to disturb you. You just try and get some rest honey. Maybe I will just take a nap sometime tomorrow." He just kept looking at me hard, the crystallized snot on his mustache twinkling in the light of the bedside lamp, his cheeks rosy with fever. After about a minute of him staring at me, while I looked like the proper martyr I was attempting to be (Joan of Arc could not of done a better job.) he finally stomped like a toddler into the kitchen and took the NyQuil. Hurray! By the time he came back into the bedroom, I was halfway to Snooze-ville.
I get why he doesn't want to do the meds thing. I really do. I am all for homeopathic treatment and all. He takes a multi-vitamin every day only because I found him one that also has a bunch of herbs and shit in it too. Yesterday he was dragging hind tit so I gave him one of Super-B vitamins that I take. Halfway through his workday, he called me to ask, "When does my pee stop looking like Tang? Is it going to stay this way?" Apparently he was standing at the urinal at work, when a dude that was at the next urinal, glanced down as men do but will always deny, and asked with genuine concern, "Dude, are you okay?" Mild side affect, I told him. Nothing to worry about.
I am praying that this cold will die a quick death. I, myself have built a large barricade of antioxidants around myself; a wall of healthiness so to speak, to block all the phlegm and nasty mucous-i-ness that is currently floating around my home. I walk around my house with a holster on my hips, whipping out and spraying Lysol every where I go, with a magnificent twirl of the fingers worthy enough to impress a gunslinger, a cloud of ozone-layer thinning, aerosol germ-killer aways in my wake.
