I’m going to tell you a true story. It’s a bit funny, a little sad, and a slice of my life as it is now.
It deals with the husband. Many of you know of him. I write about him sometimes. He’s had his share of hard times the last few years. Debilitating back pain, colon cancer and all that comes with battling that. Now we find out he has cataracts, in both eyes.
He is dealing with it all like a trooper. The man is strong in many ways.
But…..sometimes our life is like a comic skit. A dark one, maybe, but a bit of dark humor never hurt anyone.
It happened one day last week. The morning started well enough. I mean, I managed to get up out of bed. I always figure that’s a good start to any day. I have a routine in the mornings. It helps to have a routine when you are still half asleep and need to do certain things first thing in the mornings.
I dole out the husband’s daily pills. So, I count out his pills and walk out to the living room where he is still sleeping. I put his pills in his daily pill container and still half asleep go to make my first, much-needed cup of coffee. Didn’t really look at the husband as he was buried under his blankets. Usual morning.
I grab my cup of coffee and head down the hallway to my home office. After firing up my computer I do what I normally do every day. I check out WordPress, briefly bring up Facebook, and then go into my emails. Same old, same old.
About an hour later I finally hear the husband’s shuffling feet coming down the hallway to his bathroom. Again, same old stuff. A few minutes later I hear him coming towards me. Probably just to say good morning. Ok. No problem.
He stops in the doorway, as our two fat cats have decided to lay in the open doorway and believe me, you can’t walk over both of them. They take up too much room. He stands there and starts talking to me. I only listen with half an ear because…well, I only had one cup of coffee and I’m reading….and well, ok, sometimes I’m a terrible wife.
I glance over at him briefly when he asks me a question. Just a quick look. Then I do a double take. I sit back in my chair, grab my glasses to put on for a better look…..and ask him….What the hell did you do to your face!?
His face ….. it was cherry red with what suspiciously looked like hives! It looked terrible. I mean, really, it looked like it should hurt like hell.
This is pretty close to how our conversation went……..
“What the hell happened to your face?”
” Why?” (Rubs his face and grimaces)
“It’s red! And terrible looking! I also think you have hives!”
(Rubs his face again and looks at his hand) “Really? Must be from that cream you gave me.”
“I didn’t give you any cream.”
“Yes, you did.”
“Nope, I didn’t. So what cream are we talking about?”
“The cream you gave me. It was on my shelf.” (He has a shelf next to his bed where he keeps all his stuff.)
“I didn’t give you any cream!”
“You must have. Why would I have it then?”
“Why would I give you cream? I would remember if I gave you any cream and I don’t so I didn’t.”
“Then, why do I have it?”
Well, I had to admit that one had me stumped. So I get out of my nice warm, comfy office chair and say……
“Show me this cream.”
We both shuffle back down the hallway to the living room where his bed and shelf are. And where this baffling, notorious, cream is. He digs around his shelf and triumphantly hands me this small tube that I swear I have never seen in my life!
As I’m trying to read the small print on this small tube I hear him say…..
“See! You gave me this moisturizing cream, so I used it last night on my face because my face felt dry.”
“I have never seen this tube before.” I murmur as I try to read the small print. When I read what it says I start to laugh.
“This isn’t moisturizing cream…..it’s shower gel.”
“Then why did you give it to me?”
“I didn’t give it to you! I would remember and I don’t, so I didn’t give it to you!”
“Then why do I have it?”
I just sigh and look at his poor face. I don’t know why he has it. It’s not something I would ever buy.
“Did you not read the tube before you used it?”
“I couldn’t make out what it said. I just assumed since you gave it to me that it was moisturizing cream. So I used it all over my face in the middle of the night and then went back to sleep.”
“Well, it’s shower gel. A cheap gel and obviously you are allergic to it.”
He uses his forefinger to scratch at a hive.
“Don’t scratch it! Go splash some warm water over your face to make sure the gel is all off. Don’t rub your face dry, pat it dry. You don’t want to irritate those hives.”
“Why would you give me shower gel?”
I grit my teeth and say, “I. Didn’t. Give. It. To. You.”
He goes slowly towards his bathroom, mumbling….”Well, I don’t know who else would give it to me. Had to be you.”
I just shake my head, throw the tube in the trash and give up the battle. We could go on for hours.
I get him a Benadryl for the itching and send him to the pharmacist to see if they had anything for the hives. They tell him just to keep taking the Benadryl and to use a cream they sold him for the itching.
He was miserable for a couple of days. I still don’t know where the cream came from. I have my suspicions but I gave up that particular battle. I did tell him to please…PLEASE….show me anything he wants to use or take before he does so I know it’s ok.
Welcome to my world……..