Last night, The Guy’s overall health took a nosedive rather quickly. One minute, he felt a little run-down; the next, it seemed, he was shaking violently with chills and fever. Averse though I am to other people’s illnesses, there was no way I was sending him home to ride this out alone.
I tucked him into my bed, fed him two Tylenol and a Tums QuikPak (he complained of general stomach pain that hadn’t yet manifested itself in definitive symptoms; I figure in most cases, Tums’ll cure what ails you, right?) and dug around for and finally found a thermometer.
I took his temperature and felt a cold streak of fear when I realized he had a fever. Intellectually, I knew he had one, of course; after all, he was laying in my bed wearing a sweatshirt with two blankets piled on top of him, yet he was still shivering so that his teeth rattled in his mouth. But seeing the numbers on the thermometer’s digital display suddenly made it crystal clear: The Guy was really, truly, maybe even seriously, sick. And I had to take care of him no matter what, er, happened.
And happen it did. OH, BOY, did it ever happen. You want definitive symptoms? I GOT YER DEFINITIVE SYMPTOMS RIGHT HERE. I’ll spare you the gruesome details, but we’ve all had enough stomach viruses in our lives to know what havoc they wreak.
I’ll just say this:
Thank you, sweet Jesus, for Clorox wipes. Amen.
And we’ll leave it at that.
On top of everything else, the cat decided to get sick again last night, too. So at one point, I had The Guy in the bathroom and Lola in the kitchen and I just stood there in the hallway with a fistful of paper towels, not sure who to go to first.
As you can imagine, The Guy made numerous trips to the bathroom last night, and I woke up every time he so much as flinched. About 4:00 a.m., his fever broke, and when I touched his skin and realized how much he was sweating, I got scared all over again.
My alarm rang at 7:00, and I slapped at the snooze button until 7:30, when I finally had to get up, get dressed, pack my lunch and make sure The Guy had everything he needed until I got home in the afternoon. By the time I got in the car to drive to work, I was ready for a nap.
At work, I tried, somewhat successfully, to concentrate on my editing and not fret about The Guy too much while I ate a cup of yogurt and an apple for breakfast.
That was pretty when it came back up two hours later. Oh, geez.
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As you loyal readers well know, I’ve been a bachelor girl for a long time. I have PLENTY of experience taking care of myself, all by myself, when I’m sick. But this was the first time I was responsible for somebody else, too, and I have just one question:
WORKING MOMS, HOW THE HELL DO YOU DO THIS?!?!
Let’s face it: The Guy was terribly sick. But The Guy’s a grown man with an adult vocabulary and fully-functioning motor skills. I got scared a couple times, but in my rational mind, I knew that if he were critically ill, he could tell me so. Perhaps more importantly, his aim was, even in his feverish state, good enough that I wasn’t too worried he would barf on me.
If The Guy had been a baby instead of The Guy, I feel quite sure that I would have been a jangling pile of nerves in desperate need of tranquilizers this morning.
I think I passed a test last night.
The first of many.
Your mending
Kel
Wow. I’ve been there. Scary stuff. Congrats… sort of?
I’m glad he came out the other end alright. Wait, that didn’t sound right… Hope you’re feeling better soon.
p.s. I’ll bet every first mother out there had that panic attack at one point; only some of them won’t admit it.
Thanks, hon! We’re much better today. Our stomachs are a little…weak? but we’re more or less OK.
I fear I shall be that mom that has the doctor’s cell phone on speed dial.
I have often said that if I ever have children and a stomach virus strikes us down, we will have to move because I am a sympathy vomiter and there’s no way I can clean that up without some terrible consequences and unpleasant reactions.
That said, Kel- you are a trooper.
Thanks, Mere of Mine! Fortunately for all involved, The Guy has good aim.
Lola? Not so much.
You done good there Kel.
We guys are bred to tough it out, but we can be incredible babies about being sick. I feel bad for the Guy… sounds like he had it pretty bad.
He must have thought you were an angel for taking care of him.
I’ve spent most of my life, taking care of myself when sick. The funny thing is, I really never wanted all that much. I always thought there should be a rent-a-mom service… Just someone to come in, make me some soup, pat my head and go “awwww”, and then leave me alone!
Cuz being sick can sure make you grouchy.
I guess this was another relationship test. Because I’m not sure how I would’ve felt had The Guy been all mean and grouchy when I was trying to take care of him. Fortunately, he was very sweet, a little out of it and most grateful.
For my part, I’m pretty nice when I’m in the throes of an illness, but I get irritable once I’m on the mend, I guess from being cooped up too long.
That said, The Guy DID think it was pretty funny, in hindsight, that I was so panicked about his condition.
I just kept thinking, “Our mothers are NEVER gonna let me live it down if he dies on my watch.”
As a mother of the two most wonderful children on earth, I was scared out of my mind EACH and EVERY time they were sick! And to some extent, I still am, but after 14 years, you get pretty accustomed to tummy aches and stuffy noses and fevers! Thank God there is something that just kicks in and I just start getting whatever it is I think they need, which sometimes is just me.
I’m with Mere — you did good! next time — have some Emetrol liquid for vomiting — you can take it until you stop puking! and Immodium or kaopectate for the other end! I DO NOT RECOMMEND PEPTO!!
I hope you are both on the mend!
Thanks, doll! Forevermore, there shall be Emetrol, Kaopectate AND Immodium in this house for just such emergencies.
Thus spaketh me in the name of Chanel, Dior and Jimmy Choo, forever and ever, amen.
If you can live through puke and poop and still find each other attractive, I’d say you passed a major relationship milestone.
And don’t worry, you’ll make a good mommy!
Glad you’re feeling better,
Mer
It’s funny; I made The Guy wait in the living room while I had my “incidents,” but his “incidents” didn’t bother me in the slightest.
Next time, I’m TOTALLY horking in his lap.
I love it when my kids decide to run into my bed to vomit instead of running to the bathroom which is actually closer. It’s awesome.
I drink a lot, did you know that?
This comment made my day.
Next time the kids get pukey, email me, and I’ll overnight you a bottle of gin.
Your supportive/enabling
Kel
At the revel last year, Chase got a pulled pork sandwhich. Around 1 AM that night he woke up vomiting. My first reaction was to scream “NOT IN THE BED! NOT IN THE BEEEDDDDD!!!!”
Look, that’s only natural. I forgot to mention in my post that I actually did TWO things as soon as The Guy complained of stomach discomfort:
1. Fed him Tums.
2. Placed a bucket next to the bed.
Because it’s one thing to clean bodily fluids off of tile; it’s quite another to get them out of the carpet and/or my sheets.