You know the age-old wedding vow, “In sickness and in health”? Well, when I stood under the chuppah and got married three short years ago, I never really gave much thought to that vow. Unfortunately for my husband’s sake, I really should have.
I had no idea that when my husband placed that wedding band on my finger, it inevitably meant that I would be put into a position where I would get up close and personal with vomit, whining and an overall sense of ickiness without any instructions on how to handle these types of situations whatsoever.
Allow me to introduce myself: My name is Nikki Flores and I am a clueless caregiver, or so my husband claims.
Let me start off by saying that over the course of the three or four years we dated, my husband never came down with anything. I suppose that’s why I was caught so off-guard the first time I he actually became ill.
There he was, a full-grown 160-pound man with his head in the toilet, heaving just like a cat hacking up a massive hairball. Judging by the obnoxiously sick-sounding noises escaping his throat and the lack of puke in the actual toilet bowl, I was able to draw only one conclusion—He was faking.
So I did what any good-humored wife would do in my situation, I laughed in his face and told my husband the gig was up.
“I know you’re faking.”
I remember saying plainly, as I left my husband alone in the bathroom, hugging the porcelain throne.
We left the hospital exactly 12 hours later, only after his 104 fever had dwindled down to a more manageable 100 degrees, and tucked away in my purse was enough medicine to sedate a small elephant...
Continue reading this guest blog post on Life in the Married Lane.
CluelessME aka Nikki Flores
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