While I’m out honeymooning it up, I thought I would keep the entertainment headed your way with some pretty fabulous guest posters. Wahhoo!
Lizzie and Isiah are one of those couples I totally envy – in the most non-aggressive way possible, in the “can you guys just be our friends and then maybe you can rub the awesome off on us” kind of way. Her stories are always thoughtful, they are stories that I wish I had to tell, and her honesty slays me. The kind of honesty that makes you go YEAH! Me too! And then want to hug her and cry or laugh or snort along with her. The kind of honesty I aspire to write.
The day before we were supposed to leave for San Antonio, our first real vacation together, Isaiah started sniffling. I might very well be the most annoying individual when I have a cold, but I have zero tolerance for other people being sick. Sneezes annoy me. Saying “I don’t feel good” annoys me. I wish it didn’t, but hey, what’s life without honesty.
The five-hour drive was riddled with “hand me a tissue” and “can we stop for nose spray?” and coughs and sneezes I sometimes felt a little spray of. I felt sorry for him for the first two hours.
After the drive, Isaiah passed out within seconds after hitting the hotel pillow and I squirmed to get the unclean (I’m sure) comforter away from my body and snuggle up next to him, despite the chance I might get sick.
I’ve never been one to shy away from people who are sick like they have the Black Plague or anything. If you’re going to get sick, you’re going to get sick and avoiding sick people will do nothing but make you want to spend all of your days inside.
Maybe I should have started with the part where Isaiah repeatedly stubbed his big toe for days before we left and never let a “D’oh!” go by without repeating, “Lizzie, I stubbed my toe. It looks bad, doesn’t it?”
I’m also not very nurturing all the time. I go through waves of empathy and get over it, will you?
The first night there, I stayed awake for a short time thinking about all the times Isaiah ran to Walgreens to get me medicine while I whined that my throat hurt or how he could be found in the kitchen making delicious soups from scratch and hiding pop from me while he refills my glass of water when I’m sick.
I buried my head farther into his armpit and fell asleep, thinking about all of the times I rolled my eyes at his sniffles or threw tissue boxes at him, angry that I had to get up and grab them. (Wow, I am really not painting a nice picture of myself here, am I?)
The next day we woke up and I was determined to help him feel better, to go where he wanted to go, to go home when he wasn’t feeling well in the 100-degree weather with his head feeling all clogged and disoriented.
One night we went out alone to a bar called Sneak, which we, very inconspicuously called “Rape Bar” and spent the night sucking down a couple of $2 Ziegenbocks. He perked up and didn’t feel like a barnacle anymore, someone constantly asking for tissues and empathy. Although I wouldn’t recommend comparing a head cold to the rest of your lives “through sickness” and health, I felt a small glimpse of what it will be like to sacrifice my selfish habits and take care of someone else through colds and more serious ailments forever.
There are a lot of vacations in our future, we’ve got the travel bug, and hopefully we won’t be miserable with what feels like pneumonia, but is really a cold, for all of them. I’m just sure next time that I will be more nurturing and more understanding, because it’s hard enough not to feel like a nuisance when you’re sick, isn’t it?
Photo: Taken by mom in San Antonio after she paid a mariachi band to serenade us with a love song at an Italian joint with a wicked Chicken Parmesan.