Ok, so first things first…it’s been a month since I have posted anything, and it is the same BULLSHIT…this time, we even had a computer issue thrown in to the usual, hectic, three kids, new baby, both working, frenetic pace life that we have going on here (you know, the same, day to day BULLSHIT you have working at your house). Who knew, that at some point when you don’t always do the updates on your computer, that what you have just stops working? Want to watch videos? Nope. No warning, just go to youtube and realize you can’t do anything and you can’t download the new viewer because “your operating system is no longer supported.” OK, thanks. So, now that we have upgraded first to Snow Leopard, then to Maverick, everything works again, but looks different. Even the mouse is reversed, where you go down to move up and up to move down. Oh, yeah, we’ll figure it out, but it is a little bit of a pain in the ass. Anyways, that’s all I have to say about that.
The wife says, “Why don’t you post from your phone or the laptop? People want to read what you write, but you aren’t posting anything.” My answer is simple. I don’t want to. The posts are too long to type on my phone, I don’t like the laptop, and I LOVE sitting down in the desk chair, at the desk, and writing in peace. Unfortunately, the problem for me right now is not the writing, it’s actually GETTING to the damn chair! Let alone in a lucid, ready to gather thoughts, awake state of mind. NO BULLSHIT, I am working on it, but I have to get better. Rant over.
This installment will address a simple truth that most of us know but don’t usually say out loud. Recently, I have had this simple truth brought back to the forefront in my house after a recent battle with a stomach bug or food poisoning. Whichever it was, the end result was repeated trips to the bathroom, an involuntary body cleanse of sorts, no food, and a lot of sleep…and nothing else. I mean NOTHING. No talking, no helping with the kids, no sitting upright, no leaving the room, nothing. This happens like once every three years or so, but when it does, it knocks me on my ass. I called in sick to work, and I called in sick to my job at home. Forty-eight hour quarantine from the wife and kids, laying in bed, garbage can by the side of the bed, occasional sips of water between trips to the bathroom, etc. You have all been there, it is no fun.
Two days previous to my spell, we were awakened at 3:30am by what sounded like the running of the bulls in Pamplona. Instead, it was just the 10 year old sprinting to the bathroom to throw up like she just did a beer bong. It never ceases to amaze me in the ability of my daughters to jump up from a stone cold sleep to actually make it to the toilet to throw up. I know my brothers and I never seemed to make it. My mom cleaned up puke all the time…hell, one time, my brother on the top bunk threw up on me on the bottom bunk, and I didn’t even wake up. But, my girls get there and hit the target. The best part is their resiliency. They just go back to sleep or lay down with an ice pack and it’s over.
Fast forward a couple days, I am at work, it’s almost the end of my day, and I get this horrendous stomach pain. You know the one. It’s your stomach’s warning to the rest of your body that you will have to take a shit in two minutes or less, regardless of location. Home, road, walking, sitting, driving, standing, laying down, even sleeping, this one says “find a bathroom in 120 seconds or less or you will need a new pair of drawers.” Luckily, I get there, but I can feel that this is the beginning rather than the end. My insides feel like they are in knots. Something is happening. This is more than just the ramifications of eating Taco Bell.
Everyday that I go to or from work, I have a minimum 30 minute commute each way. With traffic, or an accident, or a speed trap, it can be an hour or more. Despite my best efforts to go before I get on the road, I know where the cleanest bathrooms are closest to the freeway on the way home. Literally, it’s part of the daily thought process. “Did I go? Should I go? I don’t have to go. Should I try? Do I have time? What if there is traffic?” This BULLSHIT goes on all the time. I wish it didn’t, but it does.
So, I am getting ready to leave work, feeling like I took the necessary steps to make it home…only, my stomach is tight, my forehead is clammy, and I feel a little light headed. After a slow walk to the car and an internal debate on whether to take a quick nap before hitting the road, I forge on and get moving. I have never driven in an official race, but today, I am in a race against my body. Literally, beads of sweat are forming on my head, yet the car is at 70 degrees with the a/c blowing. All I can think about is getting home and laying down. I sent the text to the wife, something along the lines of “hey, on the way home. Also, stomach is upset and I am not feeling good. Just giving you a heads up.”
Sending this at 6pm to your wife who has been home with the three kids all day and has to go work the overnight shift in three hours is well-intentioned, but, understandably, not what anyone in her position wants to hear right at that moment. Especially because we both know what that means. I am coming home, walking in the door, maybe making a pit stop in the bathroom, then I am laying down. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. It’s gonzo time. “Kids, leave daddy alone. He doesn’t feel good.” Despite dripping with sarcasm, it is a true statement. And that brings me to this simple truth.
Men are big wusses when we are sick…it’s true. Right, when we have a sniffle or a cough or a runny nose, we act all tough, go to work, don’t go to the doctor, and “fight through it.” But, when we are sick, flu sick, throw up sick, diarrhea sick, ACTUALLY sick, we are out like we got hit by Mike Tyson. The nine year old said it best when she said all I did for almost three days was “sleep and pee out of your butt.” That was it. And it was a work week for mama. Which means that the when she goes to work around 9:30, I am the only adult in the house with the little people.
Well, summer vacation really was in full swing up in this mother because the 10 year old and 9 year old were large and in charge. They could have had Tiesto DJ’ing and a hundred of their closest friends over, and I would have never known. In the meantime, they did a GREAT job with their 4 month old baby sister. The infant got put in her crib successfully after being fed each night and was there each morning when mama got home. She was fed throughout the day, diapers were changed, naps were taken, songs were sung and everyone made it, all unbeknownst and no thanks to me. I could not move and did not try. The girls would come in and check on me. “Daddy, how ya doing? Are you ok? Do you need to go to the doctor?”
No, no doctor. I will be ok soon. They brought me water. The little one even brought me one of those cold compress stickers that we use on her and put in gently on my forehead. The two “kids” were taking care of their daddy AND their little sister while mama was at work or sleeping after work. I contributed nothing. Wait, no, one time, I got the baby her binky at 4:15am when I heard her and the kids were sleeping. Took 10 seconds, and that was it. Back to bed for me. I have no idea what the kids ate, if they ate, when they went to sleep, if they slept, what they were watching on TV, if they were talking or texting, who they were talking or texting, etc, etc. Mama was with them via phone or dropcam, and apparently, everything was under control.
But this is what men do when we are sick, at least me. Medicate me, but leave me alone to sleep. And, yes, ladies, we will bitch and whine about it. No, we don’t do sick like you. Women are tough. Every month, you guys have things going on all the time between cramps, feet swelling, bloating, migraines, emotional swings, and that is all just BEFORE the cycle starts. If men had to do that every month, the world might come to a halt. No chance.
By Sunday night, the color had returned to my face, the bodily fluids to my stomach, and I was able to actually get up and move around a little. It didn’t take long for the sarcastic “Oh, are you feeling better today?” question to come. Like I wanted to get sick and lay in bed for a couple days, all by design. Like I was taking a weekend in the Hamptons. On a work week, nevertheless. Helluva deal I got there, yessiree. Literally, she is acting like I took a handful of Ambien and said see you on Tuesday.
After I shook my head yes, I get this follow up statement. “Good. Glad you are feeling better. [LONG PAUSE] Slept for two days straight, on a work week…I think I am going to (finger quotes) get sick for two days so I can sleep for two days.”
BA-DA-BING!! The BULLSHIT blog is back!!!!