Memory Lane

Since nothing out of the ordinary happened this week [unless you count the 96 loads of laundry folded (ok, slight exaggeration)] I feel I have license to take a trip down memory lane instead.

Let's go back six or so years. Russ and I were newlyweds. He was in school. We both worked. We lived in a quaint little basement apartment. And we were just figuring out what each other were really like. This is when I was introduced to how Russ handles sickness.

It began as any other day, I don't remember the particulars, but in the evening we attended a play at the college for one of Russ's classes.

In the middle of the play Russ started coming down with a cold. He was in pain, and it was obvious. So what does any normal person do when cold symptoms set in (sore throat in particular), and it's after hours? A trip to the emergency room, of course! Russ was in pain and it needed remedied! Immediately! (for those of you wondering-he knows I'm in jest)

Of course, once the emergency room was brought up I began thinking it must be more serious than just your common cold (I mean, come on, the emergency room for a sore throat?). So I (being the devoted, loving wife I am ;]) began feeling anxious as to what could possibly be ailing my new groom. Enter nurse:

Nurse: On a scale of one to ten, how bad is your pain?

Russ: (very dramatically) Ten.

Nurse: (somewhat condescendingly) Ok, ten would be like they are sawing your arm off. (then looks to Russ to restate his obviously exaggerated response)

Russ: (in a tone that would suggest "I'm fully aware of how the rating system works" he acquiesced) Nine.

Oh yes. He said nine. And he would have kept with ten had he not felt obligated to restate. Now, curiosity more than anxiety for my spouse set in. What was this pain in his throat that was as bad as having his arm sawed off?? Was it a tumor? Of course a few tests were done, a few lights shown down the oral cavity, a few tongue depressers and cotton swabs.

In the end, they handed us two pieces of paper: the diagnosis, and a prescription for Lortab. What was the diagnosis worthy of such a pain killer? It read:

"Pharyngitis (sore throat)". No, it wasn't a tumor. It wasn't even strep.

Yes. This was a foreshadowing for how my husband handles sickness. Due to this being already too lengthy of a post I won't go into the moaning throughout the night, the relentless tossing and turning, or the days off work, etc. etc. I'll leave it to your imagination. But, I will say, he is worth every second of it. I love that boy, and I wouldn't change him for anything. I even love when he gets sick... it's rather endearing :)

And no post is complete without pictures, so even though it has nothing to do with anything, here is little Hallie grabbing her toes (don't worry mom-though sockless-she is still warm)...

Aw.