I’m sick. After about a month of trying everything that my nursing textbooks taught me on how to rid fluid from one’s ears, I gave in and went to the doc, yesterday.
I have a double ear infection.
And apparently, I’m a two year old.
Steroid shot and antibiotic shot in the ass yesterday didn’t yield an overwhelming result, and I started a round of antibiotics today, still feeling crummy, grouchy, running fever, can’t hear worth a damn, ear hurts like hell, stressed to the max about this semester, a million things to do, and not one iota of energy or gumption to do even one of them.
So, what is a grown ass woman who feels like shit and is alone in her home to do?
She texts her husband and whines to him.
*It’s confirmed…I’m two years old!!*
Me: Don’t feel better, my love. Still running fever. Even with Tylenol all day. I need you to nurse me back to health.
*I even added one of those little sad face crying emoticons for effect…like this one *
And the compassionate, caring, empathetic, Nightingale-ish husband of mine, texted me back:
I’m on my way home now, stopping by to get dinner. Don’t worry about that. Get in bed, I’ll be there soon. Would you like a shake? Or, some ice cream? Anything from the pharmacy? I love you more than life itself and it almost makes me ill to know that you’re not feeling well. I’ll give you a massage after I do the kids’ homework with them, and run you a bath. See you in 30 minutes. My nursing techniques are invasive as hell!
Men…they think that “thing” of theirs is the answer to everything!
And, yeah…please don’t tell my husband I blogged this!