It’s not looking good. He seems to have lost hope of even making it to the end of the day. I’ve made my peace and, at this point, I am praying for death to just come and get it over with already. You see, Husband has a—-I can barely bring myself to say it out loud–a cold. THERE I SAID IT! I know what you are thinking! “A cold? That isn’t serious, much less terminal”. And that is true, for MOST people. The kids have all been dealing with this seasonal crud for several days and they are fine. What y’all don’t understand is that Husband doesn’t just get a regular cold. He gets attacked by the SUPER, HORRIBLE, KILLER cold germs. It is just much, much, much worse for him. He is in a fight for his very life.
All I can say is, whether it is caused by this crippling cold or my bare hands, he is thisclose to fucking death. I would, LITERALLY, rather have all four children come down with the stomach flu AT THE SAME TIME than deal with Husband waking up with a sore throat. One cough and the unspoken change of his status to INFIRM is not far away. Apparently, this also requires complete bed rest as part of the self-imposed quarantine in our bedroom. Any medicine touted to help his symptoms, rest assured, will be utilized but, undoubtedly, will fail to compete with the devastating magnitude of his man-cold. This man-cold is accompanied by a man-cough, which requires a degree of force that causes his entire body to contract so that the bed would move, suddenly and violently, intermittently throughout the night. It was like trying to sleep in a vehicle during an off-road venture. So, I’m left alone to deal with all the whining and crying and the kids aren’t much better.
GOOOOSEFRAABAA—GOOOOOSEFRAAAABAAA—I love my husband. I love my husband. I love my husband. Would a mercy killing defense stand up in court? I mean, he is suffering! It would only be an act of love to end such monumental misery. Okay, okay! Fine! I’m just going to hurt him. Just a little bit.