The Foley Flu

I would not have made a good nurse. When I was very young, my mother started plying me with nurse's stuff. I got nurse's kits for birthdays and Christmas (all I really liked were the candy pills). I got nurse books (I still remember "Nurse Nancy"). And I even had nurse's costumes for Halloween. It had been her dream to be a nurse...it never grew on me. I'm seriously not great around sick people. Had I been a nurse, I would have been the type that said "Oh, you really aren't that sick." or else I would have crawled in bed beside my patients feeling their pain with them.

So, I married a man who took sickness to a brand new level. He stayed in bed 3 days once because he stepped on a nail (through big work boots) and finally got up ONLY if we could go buy a cane to help him walk. He kept asking me if the "wound" looked infected. I never actually saw the wound. My son could easily follow in his dad's footsteps. This child has had more aches and pains than any kid I know. Nothing serious. As a matter of fact, he's 14 and Saturday was maybe the third time in his life he's gone to the Dr. because he was actually sick. Even then (Saturday) I was really just taking him to shut him up. (I know that doesn't sound motherly at all, does it.)

Well, Monday morning at about 3:00 AM, whatever he had hit me like a ton of bricks. For the next 24 hours (plus), if I wasn't asleep, it was because I was up "spewing". Yesterday, when I finally ventured from my bed, I felt like I had been hit by a truck.

Never again will I roll my eyes when he tells me he doesn't feel well.