Poor Joe
Sorry, this is going to be a somewhat snarky post under the topic "I love my husband, but..."
Joe has a cold. Poor Joe. He spent most of the afternoon yesterday waiting at Minute Clinic to be seen by a doctor for a cold. We had been exposed to strep by a neighbor a few days ago, and I actually encouraged him to go get himself checked to make sure it wasn't strep. I mean, he seemed pretty miserable and the last thing I wanted him to do was wait till the weekend and get stuck with even fewer options for getting seen/treated than he already has since he's "too busy" to get himself signed up with a regular primary care doctor.
Men, when they get sick, and in my experience, tend to be pretty pitiful things. In this case, my darling husband has been walking around like the living dead, sipping cups of hot water, reclining on the couch with his eyes closed while Julie spews every toy she has around the living room, ignoring the mounting laundry piles, and mostly not doing much normal house work unless directly asked, and then he does it in a defensive "I was just getting to that" tone, which makes me feel incredibly guilty for asking. All in the week he has off from work, supposedly taken to help me recover from childbirth and transition into the management of a two-child household.
For comparison, I'd like to offer a list of my physical complaints this week.
*I have the same cold Joe does, for starters. I think I got it the day we came home from the hospital, and I'm still snorking up much more nasty stuff than normal, and yes my throat is still sore.
*My bottom still hurts like hell when I sit down, stand up, move the wrong way, whatever. It's getting better and the hot baths are helping when I manage to find time to take them. Sunday night it was so bad, I called the midwives and went down to the hospital so they could check my stitches. I took the baby with me and called in my friend Jean to go with me and hold her while I was getting looked at. Joe was a little ticked off that I had waited till then to go in...I'm not sure what his problem was, other than he had to handle Julie's bedtime by himself. I came home with a Tylenol 3 prescription and a renewed admonition to take it easy - no laundry, take the baths, etc.
*The Tylenol 3 helps, but I've taken only 1 of them till just now because they wipe me out and make me less able to care for the kids. The first one I took sent me on a 2-hour afternoon nap (Sophie in tow, of course.)
*My nipples are sore and cracked. I dragged Sophie in to see a lactation consultant yesterday, and the woman was very nice and sweet, but also a bit horrified by what she saw. She stated her disbelief that I was still happily nursing in that condition and that I hadn't sought help sooner several times. She did give me some good tips - aparently Sophie has a slightly short tongue - as well as some crazy clamshell thingies to wear in my bra and speed up the healing. But it still hurts like hell sometimes when Sophie latches on.
*I'm still bleeding too much. I spent the afternoon, Sophie in tow, getting seen at the hospital again, then at Walgreens filling a prescription for some medicine to help my uterus contract (i.e. give me really bad menstrual-type cramps) and hopefully stop the bleeding, or at least slow it down.
*A minor irritation, but I have dry, scaly patches of skin all over my body where adhesive things were placed during my hospital stay. Anywhere a piece of tape or a monitor electrode was stuck, and there are lots of them, I have a nice dry, red, itchy spot that is ugly and annoying to me. A petty complaint, I know, but while I'm sharing, I'm going for full disclosure.
*Finally, I'm going into the realm of truly too-much-info for the Internet. I've been constipated for the last 6 months. It's pregnancy-related, although I've always been predisposed to that problem. I'm on a bunch of stool softeners, and they do help, but taking a poo is still scary business, especially when your hoo-hoo is full of stitches and your bottom is still bruised from passing a baby.
Tonight I feel a bit at the end of my rope. I've just taken my second Tylenol 3 pill this week, and I'm going to go sit on the couch and ignore the mounting laundry and the toys scattered across the room. I am going to watch some tv and hold my precious, wonderful baby while the buzz takes hold, and probably I will end up going to bed early in my drug-induced haze.
So why, in all the whining is this post entitled "Poor Joe"? Well, a husband does deserve to feel sorry for himself and take it easy when he's sick. Especially when he doesn't succumb to a cold all that often. It really is a shame that he had to get sick this week when I have very little sympathy to spread around beyond myself and my babies. I think he's in there right now picking up the toys and the dinner mess, bless him.
Joe has a cold. Poor Joe. He spent most of the afternoon yesterday waiting at Minute Clinic to be seen by a doctor for a cold. We had been exposed to strep by a neighbor a few days ago, and I actually encouraged him to go get himself checked to make sure it wasn't strep. I mean, he seemed pretty miserable and the last thing I wanted him to do was wait till the weekend and get stuck with even fewer options for getting seen/treated than he already has since he's "too busy" to get himself signed up with a regular primary care doctor.
Men, when they get sick, and in my experience, tend to be pretty pitiful things. In this case, my darling husband has been walking around like the living dead, sipping cups of hot water, reclining on the couch with his eyes closed while Julie spews every toy she has around the living room, ignoring the mounting laundry piles, and mostly not doing much normal house work unless directly asked, and then he does it in a defensive "I was just getting to that" tone, which makes me feel incredibly guilty for asking. All in the week he has off from work, supposedly taken to help me recover from childbirth and transition into the management of a two-child household.
For comparison, I'd like to offer a list of my physical complaints this week.
*I have the same cold Joe does, for starters. I think I got it the day we came home from the hospital, and I'm still snorking up much more nasty stuff than normal, and yes my throat is still sore.
*My bottom still hurts like hell when I sit down, stand up, move the wrong way, whatever. It's getting better and the hot baths are helping when I manage to find time to take them. Sunday night it was so bad, I called the midwives and went down to the hospital so they could check my stitches. I took the baby with me and called in my friend Jean to go with me and hold her while I was getting looked at. Joe was a little ticked off that I had waited till then to go in...I'm not sure what his problem was, other than he had to handle Julie's bedtime by himself. I came home with a Tylenol 3 prescription and a renewed admonition to take it easy - no laundry, take the baths, etc.
*The Tylenol 3 helps, but I've taken only 1 of them till just now because they wipe me out and make me less able to care for the kids. The first one I took sent me on a 2-hour afternoon nap (Sophie in tow, of course.)
*My nipples are sore and cracked. I dragged Sophie in to see a lactation consultant yesterday, and the woman was very nice and sweet, but also a bit horrified by what she saw. She stated her disbelief that I was still happily nursing in that condition and that I hadn't sought help sooner several times. She did give me some good tips - aparently Sophie has a slightly short tongue - as well as some crazy clamshell thingies to wear in my bra and speed up the healing. But it still hurts like hell sometimes when Sophie latches on.
*I'm still bleeding too much. I spent the afternoon, Sophie in tow, getting seen at the hospital again, then at Walgreens filling a prescription for some medicine to help my uterus contract (i.e. give me really bad menstrual-type cramps) and hopefully stop the bleeding, or at least slow it down.
*A minor irritation, but I have dry, scaly patches of skin all over my body where adhesive things were placed during my hospital stay. Anywhere a piece of tape or a monitor electrode was stuck, and there are lots of them, I have a nice dry, red, itchy spot that is ugly and annoying to me. A petty complaint, I know, but while I'm sharing, I'm going for full disclosure.
*Finally, I'm going into the realm of truly too-much-info for the Internet. I've been constipated for the last 6 months. It's pregnancy-related, although I've always been predisposed to that problem. I'm on a bunch of stool softeners, and they do help, but taking a poo is still scary business, especially when your hoo-hoo is full of stitches and your bottom is still bruised from passing a baby.
Tonight I feel a bit at the end of my rope. I've just taken my second Tylenol 3 pill this week, and I'm going to go sit on the couch and ignore the mounting laundry and the toys scattered across the room. I am going to watch some tv and hold my precious, wonderful baby while the buzz takes hold, and probably I will end up going to bed early in my drug-induced haze.
So why, in all the whining is this post entitled "Poor Joe"? Well, a husband does deserve to feel sorry for himself and take it easy when he's sick. Especially when he doesn't succumb to a cold all that often. It really is a shame that he had to get sick this week when I have very little sympathy to spread around beyond myself and my babies. I think he's in there right now picking up the toys and the dinner mess, bless him.
posted by Shelly Kang at 6:33 PM
2 Comments:
This post has been removed by a blog administrator.
Yes, I am a big jerk. But, we both knew that and we both still love me. :-P
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