Last week I was SICK. Not, I don’t feel very good so I’m going to be lazy and cranky type of sick. No, I’m talking the kind of sick where you are full on laid out in the bed for days. The kind where you begin to feel as if you are no longer human and you’re at the point where you don’t even care what type of medicine you are taking as long as it just knocks you out. (I mean honestly, if you could sleep through the whole illness why not?) Basically I felt like mangled up animal carcass.
Naturally, I did what any other human being does and turned to Web MD to diagnose myself. (Of course it told me I probably had cancer.) Thankfully, I was able to convince myself that I most likely did not have Zika, Ebola, or West Nile.
The good news is that I had my amazing husband to take care of me. Well, kinda… I have never really been this sick around him and I don’t think he had the faintest idea of how to take care of a sick person. Poor thing.
After nearly biting his head off for asking too many questions my sweet husband ignored my salty mood and did what he could to make me feel better. The first night he made soup (mind you he does not know how to cook) and brought me a Sprite. On the second night be of me being a hostage to my bed, after an unsuccessful attempt at getting me to go to urgent care, he made me a peanut butter, honey, and banana sandwich, put an ice pack on my head and sent me back to bed.
After a few more days I was able to leave my death bed feeling like a brand new person. Thankfully we both survived, although he is sick now so now it’s my turn to take care of him. Lucky for me he is a much better patient than I am.