Recently, us Wilde Things were struck down by a zombie flu. The sprogs fell first, and I made a few unkind jabs about Boyo suffering from Babyman Cold before I was hit by a tsunami of pain and misery. If I didn’t find karma such a horribly offensive concept¹ I’d possibly believe I’d brought it on myself with my sub-optimal empathy. I have never been as sick as I was a couple of weeks ago. 5 days in bed. 5 freaking days!
Once the worst of it was over I still felt too traumatised by the experience to make jokes, especially the joke in the title of this post, but now I think sufficient time has passed that I am fully prepared to make jokes at my own expense for your reading pleasure.
So, as I said, the sprogs were the first to fall. Girlie, as usual, was very stoic. She’s so good at being sick. She calmly² takes herself off to bed where she quietly rests until she feels sufficiently well enough to return to humanity. It’s really fantastic from the perspective of someone taking care of her, but it doesn’t make for a very interesting story.
Boyo, on the other hand, OH THE DRAMA! It’s gripping. Boyo royally sucks at being sick (hence the Babyman Cold jokes)…
One afternoon, before I was slammed myself, Boyo lay on the couch under the ugliest rug in the world and bellowed at me “Muuuuuuhuuuuum I don’t feeeeeeel verrrry well!” (on loop, with the occasional “I haaaaaaaaaave a headaaaaaaaaaache!” thrown in) for 45 minutes. Forty-bloody-five long, painful minutes. I was outside hanging washing on the line when he started. I knew he was as comfortable as I could make him, having been given suitable and sufficient pain relief medication, laying on a comfy couch under an ugly but very warm rug, and having a water bottle with him… There was little else I could do so I continued to hang the laundry out, expecting that he’d stop. He’s got stamina, I’ll give him that. When I had finished hanging out the laundry I took a deep breath, gritted my teeth and came inside. With all the restraint that I could muster I kindly reminded Boyo that I understood he was feeling rotten, that there was nothing more I could give him to make the pain go away, and that perhaps he might give his headache a chance to disappear if he stopped making that awful, loud, bellowing noise. He got it eventually, and then his snotty, tear stained face asked for a cuddle. All was then forgiven, because even if he is a horrid patient, he’s pretty damned cute.
A couple of days later I was beginning to feel a bit yuck, and so began my five days in bed. Most of it is a blur, and to be honest I think I sucked at being sick this time too. Usually I like to think I’m pretty brave, I’ve had several surgeries and I think I have behaved pretty reasonably during recovery from those…
This flu though, oh my good earth! I’ve never been so sick in all my life. I dosed up on pseudo-ephidrine, paracetamol and ibuprofen (because I’m not a hippy anymore) then I lay in bed groaning and being generally pathetic while Monsieur Lapin Blanc did all the domestic things. MLB says he knew I was really sick because I wasn’t talking. Normally I could talk underwater with a mouthful of marbles and I wasn’t talking, I was just being a useless, complaining blob of sick.
One night, maybe day three or four, I called my Mum and in very Boyo fashion, I cried at her.
“I’ve never felt more sick in all my life. The pain killers are doing NOTHING. No. That’s not true, they are doing something. They’ve made me constipated. Waaaaaaaaah. I can’t cope with being snotty, cough-y, achey and have a clogged up bum too. What can I doooooooo?”
Mum is a registered nurse/registered midwife and Mum is my Mum, so she knows how to fix everything.
Much like I had said to Boyo just a few days before (the parallels are astounding), Mum said there was nothing more we could do about my pain if I was already taking pain relief, but she could help with the constipation… Mum suggested two options. I could take Coloxyl®, but I know they take about a day to work (unlike a close personal relative of mine who recently took 6 Coloxyl® in 12 hours because she didn’t know that [insert LOL here]) or I could use a glycerine suppository, which she has in her medicine cabinet in bulk because of the whole midwife thing³.
Having tried neither option before, but having very recently heard the story of aforementioned close personal relative’s experience with Coloxyl® overdose, and having heard no stories about glycerine suppositories I decided to choose the latter. I was desperate to relieve at least one of my sources of discomfort, and glycerine suppositories are squishy bullet shaped things that are essentially just like a gummy baby, they’re cute and harmless right?! Let’s just forget, in a sick and irrational haze, the fact that administration of a suppository is up one’s arse while administration of Coloxyl® is oral. I’m not sure WTF I was thinking because, aside from the longer wait for Coloxyl® to work, I’m sure a sensible dose of any oral laxative would have been my preferred choice had I actually considered the options.
So Mum comes over with the suppositories, I cry at her about how terrible I feel and in a moment of clarity I remember where Boyo’s dramatic tendencies come from. I mention this. We laugh because I’m a drama queen but not too much because it makes me cough and I don’t like that because I’m a drama queen. Mum offers to insert the suppository for me. Awwwww fuck. No thanks. That’s going a bit too far, I’m not THAT sick! Mum leaves, imparting the wisdom to aim the suppository at my belly button, to make sure I get the right angle. Mum is the suppository of all wisdom.
So with Mum gone, it’s just me and the suppositories.
I’ll spare you the details from there on, but I’ll impart a bit of my own suppository wisdom…
- These work very fast.
- They are very effective.
- I don’t think gummy bears could do what glycerine suppositories do.
¹Too many wonderful people I know have had awful things happen to them and I just can’t believe for a second that it’s through any fault of their own.
²Those who know her know that Girlie’s default state is neither calm nor quiet… ever.
³The first poo after giving birth is a frightening concept, one could be forgiven for believing one’s insides will evacuate through one’s anus, so having super soft poo is pretty helpful.
If you would like to try your luck at being the suppository of all wisdom, have a look at Stop The Boats.