It was no big deal. A rare 24-hour flu on Sunday. I was wiped out on the couch, drowing in a torrent of snot and phlegm. But in the greater scheme of things, not really a noteworthy illness.
That is until Elisa decided to share.
Thing is, Elisa doesn't know how to stay away from me when I'm sick. She wants to pamper and hug and show affection. All the while, feeling disgusting and infectious, I want to be as far away from her as possible. I don't want her breathing my same air, or coming within range of a germ-loaded sneeze.
But in my weakened state, it's a battle I'm destined to lose. And Elisa as well -- she's sick today. She blames me. I have no choice but to take the blame.
She's sneezy, feeverish, with a nasty sore throat. Same as me on Sunday. With luck it'll be gone tomorrow. But that's small consolation right now. Especially since she's got fresh new fodder for all her nagging fears.
"I swallowed some phlegm. Will it infect the baby?"Thankfully our midwife still returns Elisa's frantic phonecalls (I would've cut her off long ago). In short, Elisa has nothing to worry about except getting better.
"If I suck on a cough drop, will I poison my baby?"
"I think I have SARS."
One of the great things about this pregnancy, other than the fact that it's her carrying the baby and not me, is that Elisa hasn't had any messed up midnight cravings. Sure, she gets to pick our dinner every single night, but I can handle that. I just haven't had to deal with the "get me pickle ice cream" at two in the morning bit (if it really exists and isn't merely a figment of a Hollywood screenwriter's imagination).
So today I started worrying when Elisa demanded I go out and buy lemons for lemonade (to help her overcome her flu). It was a weird request, especially since we had fresh lemonade in the fridge, but she was insistent.
Oh no! Was my good luck finally coming to an end? I couldn't deny her request, her being ill and pregnant and all sorts of associated maladies. So I did what every not-so-supportive husband would do. I lied.
"I don't have any cash on me." (As though I couldn't go to an ATM, or pay with a check card.)
But to my great delight, Elisa seemed satisfied with my lie, "Ok. I'll just have some lemon ginger tea instead."
So I'm a bit perplexed. I want to feel satisfied, but I have pangs of guilt. So then I want to feel guilty, but I kind of dig that "satisfied" feeling.
I just hope I don't get a nudge at 2 a.m. tonight.by Kos | June 17, 2003 08:32 PM