That season is upon us once again: cold and flu season. And with cold and flu season comes the dreaded man cold.
What is a man cold, you ask? It's only the worst cold ever, basically on par with the black death. Now, not all men get man colds, but ONLY men can get a man cold. Until just last year, I though this phenomenon was confined to just my husband, but apparently it is a world-wide epidemic.
For the last week and a half, I've been waylaid with a cold, as has Oscar. It's been miserable. Runny noses, post-nasal drip, sore throats, congested chests, chesty coughs, headaches, backaches. You know. A cold.
Yesterday morning, I get a call from Nelson (who was at work.) "I'm sick. I'm going to the doctor."
"What's wrong I?" I asked, concerned.
"It my head. And my throat. It's really sore," he said.
"Oh, sounds like the cold that has been going around the house," I said.
"Oh, no. This is much worse. My throat. It's an infection."
"Okay," I said.
He goes to the doctor. Diagnosis? A virus, a.k.a a cold. She told him to take decongestants and get some rest. She gave him a prescription for an antibiotic if he wasn't better by Sunday.
"Maybe I should just fill it," he said.
"No. You do not need antibiotics for a cold, only if it becomes and ear or sinus infection," I said.
And today? Today, it's bad people. Really, really, bad. He called out of work. He woke in the middle of the night to go and get our down comforter out of the closet, "I'm freezing!"
This morning, it was the chills.
When he finally came down stairs, he took them one at a time. You know, because having a cold impairs the ability of people to come down stairs. And he groaned, literally groaned with each and every stair. And he has continued to groan with each step he took all morning long.
IT'S A COLD. Yes, it sucks. Yes, he feels shitty. But, is he dying? Hardly! Is he really having difficulty walking? I find that hard to believe. It is the SAME COLD I had, and I'm pregnant with my shitty pregnant immune system. I couldn't even take decongestants. And I barely mentioned my ills.
But, being the excellent wife that I am (ahem), I made him some soup and some tea, got him the remote and a blanket, and set him up in the couch. He's watching "How it's Made" as we speak. Text book man cold.
I keep trying to remind myself, I know not the pain and agony of a man cold. I only know what a regular cold feels like. Nelson is enduring a level of suffering I cannot, even though I've endured natural child birth, possibly comprehend.
I really just hope he can make it, I hope he can survive the day. Because if I have to deal with another day of this? I might kill him.