Last week I developed a shocking case of tonsillitis and the Doctor prescribed me penicillin and pain killers.
Yesterday I spent the day feeling off. Last night it hit. I have the worst vomiting bug I can remember having. It was a quite traumatic night. My Little Man ran around tending to Mum as she puked and sat on the loo. The poor bloke, he was great, but so scared. The Workaholic took forever to get home. I had sent him six texts and made two phone calls, but he still had not grasped the urgency. It took a vomiting phone call from the loo to get him moving and on his way home.
When he did manage to get himself home, he put the Munchkin back to sleep, gave the Little Man a hug and a drink and then finally came into the bathroom to ask why I was sitting on the floor, wet and wrapped in a towel... Grrrrr. I pointed out that I had had three showers (including one bawling down the phone to my Mum) and that the sheets on the bed needed to be changed so I had nowhere to go.
So for the first time in the last 24 years, he changed the sheets and even put them in the washing machine. He then left me, to eat his dinner (at 10:30 mind you) and watch TV.
Men suck. Seriously this would have to be the most useless effort ever. I can only imagine the scene if the roles were reversed!
Today the Little Man is quietly puking his guts up like a trooper. I know that if his father gets it, it will be a different situation entirely!! He's useless as a carer, but it's as a patient he really excels. The entire street has to know he is sick and he constantly NEEDS something.
How's your Man in sick situations?