You Be Illin'

I am sorry but there is a BIG difference between a sick man and a sick woman. As cliche as it may be, it's freaking TRUE. Those of you who are facebook friends of mine are aware that Dave has been sick. He came home from work yesterday and said, "What did you say about me on facebook?" Uh.......I say LOTS of stuff about him on facebook. Apparently the remark in question was in regards to his terrible illness. People at his office were surprised he was not hospitalized given the gravity of the wasting disease described in my posts. When I explained to him that I was simply pointing out that he was horribly ill, (and yes, making fun of him) he said, "That's SUCH a woman thing". Well, being a big fat baby when you're sick is SUCH a man thing. NO PERSON HAS EVER BEEN SICKER THAN A MAN WITH A COLD. It's not just Dave. It's my dad, my brother, my male friends, my friend's husbands, etc., etc. For some reason a sick male (a notable exception being your sick male child......it's a mommy thing) is extra annoying. Maybe it's that our female brains are wired to need our males to be capable and strong. Provide and protect and all that. A sick man is neither capable OR strong. More like a big lump with a box of Kleenex. Scratch that. A MOANING big lump with a box of Kleenex. That sneezes and coughs. It's not that I'm lacking a care-taking instinct.  I was not berating him while he was feeling poorly. I asked him if he needed anything, fetched him water, and procured his medications. I even asked him if he would like something special to eat. Oh, and bought him popsicles. POPSICLES, PEOPLE!!!!!! That's above and beyond. But appropriate levels of compassion notwithstanding, I think a big factor in our lack of ability to fully sympathize is this: CHILDBIRTH. Nothing you can do, men........cold, flu, loss of limb will ever make up for the fact that for nine months or more we chicks were pregnant. And then either physically forced a child out of our bodies or had them surgically removed. Splayed open like a halibut I was. So maybe that's what it's all about. Poop out a bowling ball and then maybe we'll feel a little worse when you start sniffling. Maybe we're just a pack of bitter battle axes. But probably not. Or maybe it's the one time a man can let his guard down and be vulnerable. You don't have to be big and strong when you be illin'. You can revert to being a sick little boy in footy pajamas. And maybe you just want your mommy. But your wife is not your mommy, unfortunately and maybe that's why we aren't capable of treating you as such. Ahhhhh, geez......I can hear him about to hack up a lung. Better go check on him. And call 911. Dispatcher: "What's your emergency?" Me: "My husband has a cold". Dispatcher (speaking into radio): "Flight for Life??? We have a pick-up in Morrison. STAT."