The Tempest Online™

~ Sic gorgiamus allos subjectatos nunc. ~


Posted by Daniel on May 8, 2006

//” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors.Well, it's come to this, has it? Today, I get to show my sweety just how much I care and that, his cranky opinion aside, I do not have the worst bedside manner.

Steve threw his back out this past Saturday lifting concrete blocks out of my truck. It seems that I, as usual, was babbling with our neighbors about the greenhouse we're building in our back yard while Steve – ever the tireless worker bee – continued unloading the building supplies without me and while my back was turned. Needless to say, he did so without a whimper. When I finally shut up and walked back to the truck, there he sat, doubled over in agony.

You have to understand Steve: It isn't that he never gets sick or injured, he just never gets the right chance, considering he spends so much time taking care of me. I am always sick and/or injured. He is arguably the best care-taker in the world. He's always there to fix what ever boo-boo's I have stupidly aquired (and I get them a LOT). When I'm sick (again – A LOT), he busts his ass to make sure I'm getting better and ever at my beck and call. For the record, I never take that – or him – for granted.

When he tells me to lay down and take it easy, TRUST me when I say, he never has to say that twice. I try never to be a stubborn or uncooperative patient. Although, I'm sure I can try his patience at times and make him want to "pull the plug". I can be kinda bitchy and fussy.

Steve, on the other hand, simply can't sit still. Even when he's sick or injured. You see, Pookie suffers from what we refer to as S.P.S. (Sudden Project Syndrome). He just can't seem to stop moving around the house, because gawd knows if he does – even for one minute – the universe will explode. Yesterday, he was baking banana bread (back off bitches…he's mine!!) and the next thing I knew, he was scrubbing and sanitizing the whole kitchen. Now that's just sick!

Today, however, is Steve's turn to be nursed. "Doctor, we have a code pink in room ICU812!!"

While he did choose to go in to work today, I have his night pretty much planned out. Heating pads and Icy Hot pads are standing at the ready. (I had to go to three different places to find the right ones) I've scrubbed up and am still deciding which thermometer I'll use…(hehe). I know, a thermometer isn't necessary, but hey, there has to be something in it for me!

//” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors.
Tonight, I'm taking care of all the house chores – within reason…I'm not going to be a fanatic about it!!

First, after he get's settled in and cleaned up from work, I'll put the heat wrap and Icy Hot pad on him. Then put him in a comfy position in bed. While he's enjoying the soothing heat and overwhelming menthol of the Icy Hot, he can lay back and watch his Countdown With Keith Olbermann. (Baby does love him some Countdown)

As Countdown and heat pads have him pooled into a mentholated puddle, I'll be downstairs in the kitchen, whipping up a batch of shrimp scampi, linguine, cesar salad, garlic bread (the home made kind he loves that I buy at the store) and a huge tossed chicken breast salad. I mention the dinner because that's the only thing I know how to do when taking care of someone…I feed them. Why? Because I so suck at patting the head and saying, "There…there." I'm Italian, and we know one thing above all else…FOOD.

Wait a minute…okay…we know TWO things very well, but the other thing will simply mess his back up worse, and then I'd have to cook again.  It's a vicious cycle!!

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Well, I've got to go. He just pulled into the garage. Time to baby my Baby. (Note to self: lose a few pounds. This slutty nurse outfit has shrunk!!)

Wish him luck. 🙂


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