Home Life Laurie Nigro Your husband has the. worst. cold. ever.

Your husband has the. worst. cold. ever.

It was bound to happen. I knew it would. I’ve escaped it for too long, had too many close calls. I’ve been too lucky and my time was up. And it arrived with a vengeance. My husband got sick.

It started with a cough.

“Maybe I inhaled something at work,” he said.

I crossed my fingers and hoped. I dosed him with homeopathic remedies. I drowned him in herbal tea. I ushered him off to bed super-early. All to no avail.

At first, it seemed like it would work, as if I had dodged the bullet. He got up, got himself dressed (and drank another cup of tea I made) and headed off to work. It started around mid-morning. My phone lit up with a message. Some couples communicate through texting, some couples even employ sexting. This was neither. This was sick-xting.

Admittedly, he was kind enough to warn me. “I’m all achy, feverish and sick,” the glowing screen proclaimed. “Backache and everything,” it glared again. I began to panic. He doesn’t get sick often. I can’t even really remember the last time he was down. Let me clarify, I definitely remember the last time he was down (four days at home, lots of moaning, several trips to the doctor, many, many trips-for me-to the drugstore), I just don’t remember the date. I think I blocked it out, like a trauma survivor.

When my husband (and really, any man) gets sick, he turns into a whiny, needy, complaining shell of a human being. There is extensive moaning. He doesn’t move from the couch. He accumulates piles of dirty tissues and drowns in pools of self pity.

I have a hard time understanding this. This man handles injuries like Chuck Norris. He’s nearly cut off a hand and, a la Monty Python, proclaimed, “It’s just a flesh wound.” When that wound became grossly infected and doctors were contemplating IV antibiotics, the man took a quarter cup of salt and rubbed it into his stitched hand. Once, he walked into one of my pre-natal visits with a gash so significant under his eye,  my midwife stopped my exam to butterfly-stitch his face. He still has a lump in one of his ankles from the time that he “slipped” with a machete and gashed said ankle. The other ankle is a little off too, from the layup that went bad and the sprain that went unattended.

However, if this same man gets a stuffy nose, the world is coming to an end. Especially for those that live with him. My favorite part is when he gets angry at the virus, as if it’s an entity with thought and feeling that has chosen him specifically for prolonged suffering. There’s definitely a, “why me?!” sentiment. When he’s feeling particularly achy and the heating pad just isn’t cutting it, sometimes he growls. Seriously. How could anyone be expected to survive this?

I’m not without compassion. I know it’s awful to be sick. I’ve had strep throat, the flu and even pneumonia. As a matter of fact, I recall one super-early morning, several years back, when I had a stomach virus. I was sitting on the floor, nursing a baby and vomiting over her head into a bucket, while my husband was heading to work. He carefully stepped over me on his way out. At no point do I remember whining, crying or begging for God’s grace.

Whenever possible, I suggest keeping all men you know from getting ill. Really, do whatever it takes. I know I’ve offered suggestions for warding off germs in this space before, but when the men in your life start to show cold-like symptoms, it’s time to break out the big guns. Give him all the things, many times a day.

Start with garlic. Peel the cloves, cut them into pill size and make him swallow them. As many as you can get down his throat, about every hour. That’s usually all it takes. But just in case, in between that dosing, my go-to preventative is oscillococcinum by Boiron. Also, all beverages must be mixed with some form of healing herbs: echinachea, elderberry, astragalus, licorice root, ginger — they’re all good choices. If you can, get your hands on some local honey, I prefer Goodale Farms and Woodside Farms, a couple of spoonfuls is great for soothing a ragged throat.

Don’t let him go to bed without first drugging him. My personal favorite for almost guaranteed sleep is Boericke & Tafel Nighttime Cough & Bronchial Syrup. I don’t care if they use voodoo magic to make it work, all I care is that we get a good night’s sleep. Therefore, if allopathic medicine must be used, so be it! Bring on the ibuprofen, acetaminophen, whatever you’ve got. Because any detrimental side effects they may have are way safer then what I may do to the man if he gets me up, every hour, on the hour, with the moaning and the shivering and the sad sighing.

In a previous post, I gave a classic recipe for a hot toddy. If you want to take that to a new level, give this fantastic recipe a try. Unless he’s an automaton, this should knock out the strongest of men. As a bonus, it can keep in the fridge for about three months. Thanks to http://www.instructables.com for the idea.

Ingredients:
Fresh lemon
Fresh ginger
Raw honey
Dark rum or whiskey
Cinnamon stick
Dash of cayenne pepper

Directions:
Slice lemon into quarters and pack into jar
Grate ginger, and add to lemon
Add alcohol and cayenne, combine. While stirring, fill jar with honey. Put in cinnamon stick.

To Use:
Add 1 tablespoon (or more to taste) to hot water and stir.

How do you deal with a man who is suffering so much he’s on the brink of death? Share with me at laurie@riverheadlocal.com.

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Laurie Nigro
Laurie is the mother of two biological children and one husband and the caretaker of a menagerie of animals. Laurie is passionate about frugal, natural living. She was recognized by the L.I. Press Club with a “best humor column” award in 2016. Email Laurie