It has always been a running gag in our house that I've had a hard time believing when my wife is sick with anything more than a stuffy nose. I look back, lovingly of course, at the countless trips to the ER to find out that the terrible bout of fever, sweats, headaches, stiff joints was not anything but a cold or sinus infection of sorts. There is no immunity for me from this, because I, too, have had to make those quick trips as well from things as small as a rash to as serious as cardiac issues. However, it was earlier this week that I needed to rush home from work to assist my ailing wife, calling me to tell me to come home as soon as I could. Being the non-believer, I brought her to the ER to ensure that her cold was properly treated. Looking back, however, it was probably a good choice to do that since she had been traveling for the previous two weeks and could have caught a serious bug from overseas. This history all comes back to yesterday. While my wife began the road to recovery and felt much better during our Thanksgiving holiday, almost as soon as she was on the mend, I felt myself going down the same track. This morning, I woke up feeling like I just got run over by the same truck that hit her earlier in the week. So, as with most things, I really shouldn't have questioned the health and wellbeing of my wife, supported her a bit more, and not rushed her off to the hospital to quell my own doubts of her illness. I will remember to do that next time, as I focus now on sucking down the water, eating as much Advil and Sudaphed as I can, and wiping my runny nose, feeling like I'm sure she did earlier this week as she laid on the couch needing me to be with her.
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