Now, normal people would have bundled up their sick husband and dragged him to a doctor.
I, however, (as many can attest) am far from normal.
So, reverting back to my childhood days of alternative medicine, I did what any young wife would do in my position.
I boiled a pot of water.
You see, when anyone was sick in my home, we would use wet cloths. Cold ones for fever and headache. Warm ones for congestion. Oh, there were a myriad of other “fancy” treatments for just about any ailment there ever was, but hey, I was new to this, so I thought I would start out slow.
With my pot of water boiling, I dropped my towel (I think I actually used bath towels for some reason) to get warm. Then fishing it out of the hot cloth from the 212 F water, I did my best to wring out the water.
Yes, it was hot. Yes, my hands turned bright red from the heat. But I was careful not to let too much heat escape. And, I figured, that my comfort at the moment was of little consequence if it meant helping my dear, sick hubby.
Wrapping the wet towels in another towel, I carried them carefully the long distance of 9 ½ feet to the side of our bed (what would the newlywed experience be without starting out in a
Evidently, there is some skill involved when applying wet compresses. I didn’t remember anyone that my mom helped screaming in pain. In fact, I definitely didn’t remember her ever SCALDING some poor, sick family member.
I am pretty sure I covered Hubby’s chest with first degree burns.
On the upside, it was his first coherent moment in days.
That was 16 years ago. That would be SIXTEEN. That’s how old I was when I met him. Over 20 years ago (ok High School Pals, don't you feel old now?) Actually, our anniversary was a couple weeks ago.
December 28th. My favorite day ever.
Because of the Wild Rumpus all around our house (meaning all the company we had over, of course), I get to share our Anniversary with the blogging world today.
In my opinion, it takes a pretty good man to stick with me – especially after my “home remedies” didn’t pan out.
But, you know. That is who he is. A good man. And I love him.
Thank you, Sweetie, for the wonderful life. I promise never to burn you again.
On purpose, anyway.