The Man Cold

Be careful what you wish for, dear friends, that is my advice for you today. My husband's travel schedule for work has become so busy and hectic, I have been complaining about his absence for weeks. I've made snarky comments about needing to find a roommate, complained that he only stops by our house to get his laundry washed, and gotten downright bitter about him being away so often. And then, as karma would have it, his trip to Germany this week was cancelled at the last minute and now he's home. He's here, and he has caught the thing that strikes fear into the heart of women everywhere: the man cold.

As any male will gladly tell you, the man cold is much different than any illness a woman has ever had. No medical malady, no matter what the severity, can compare to the life-threatening misery a man experiences in coping with what the rest of us call the common cold. This has become such an epidemic that the term "man cold" is even listed in the Urban Dictionary:

"The name 'man cold' disguises the true terrible, debilitating disease that is the man cold. Nearly all men will die from man colds unless they are administered immediately with large amounts of mindless TV such as daytime TV, or childrens' cartoons. It is essential that they not move from bed or a comfy sofa to allow for rehabilitation, and must have tissues and man cold medicine (such as chocolate biscuits, McDonalds, or a nice cup of tea) brought to them constantly by a nearby female."

Oh yes, that sounds hauntingly familiar.

Saturday, the sick spouse was king of the remote and recuperated while watching football, Sunday was spent catching up on all the shows our DVR had recorded since he had last been home, and I thought we were over the worst of it. After all, a new work week was upon us and I assumed he would suffer through his affliction from the confines of his office and that would be that. Sunday night at bedtime, I enjoyed a NyQuil night cap just like Clint, in an effort to dull the snoring, coughing, wheezing slumber that would be resting next to me. I put in my trusty ear plugs to drown out the noise, and started to doze....

What occurred next I would akin to Chinese water torture. Every single time I almost drifted off to dreamland, without fail, my darling spouse would elicit a cough that I estimate to have reached around 100 decibels (a jet engine at 100 feet is around 140 decibels, so this seems like an accurate and educated guess). I hope that getting the bejeezus scared out of you burns calories, because if so, Sunday night was some amazing body-sculpting cardio, y'all. I spent half the night scared out of my wits, heart pounding, trying to take calming breaths and get back into some sort of relaxed state, and every time I managed to calm back down, the hack attacks started again. I finally surrendered to my captor around 2:30 in the morning and retreated to the silent safety of our family room couch. Side note: anyone who ever tells you they slept well on a couch is, unequivocally, a pants-on-fire-liar. It is not possible to achieve REM sleep on a sofa. 

In addition to the sleep deprivation, I knew we were in the throes of a man cold when I saw how thoughtfully our patient had decorated the house. Every room has been adorned with Hall's cough drop wrappers, strewn about like confetti after a party. The bathroom is now accessorized with a lovely assortment of bottles and boxes of every over the counter medicine known to the Northern hemisphere. Apparently, it is also a necessity to constantly check our medicine cabinet in case any new and miraculous wonder drugs have appeared since the last round of medication. Better safe than suffering is the man cold mantra.

Last night, I had already decided that one of us was sleeping in the guest room. Exhaustion is not a good look on me, and I was beginning to fear what little patience I possess was slipping away. Through two closed doors, a hallway, and a box fan on the highest setting, that high pitched coughing still literally haunted my dreams. 

It's been four days now and I've encouraged Patient Zero to head to the doctor. All this sickness could become *ahem* hazardous to his health, if it continues much longer. I'm starting to get punchy, and there's not enough caffeine in the world to soothe my jangled nerves. On the bright side, at least this is the man cold and not its more severe cousin, the man flu. There have been no sick days taken, and (please hear me Jesus) I don't think the disease is contagious, so the end has to be near. Hey, a girl can dream, right? At least she can if she can doze off, with a man cold lying there next to her.