Before We Had Kids (The infamous BWHK years), The Wife Unit and I lived in a large house, which we bought in anticipation of filling it up with rugrats, pets, and the occasional party.
One kid’s bedroom used to be a guest room, which had a nice bed in it, that was all comfy and everything. This soon became the sick room, the room I or the Wife Unit would sleep in while coughing and wheezing or what have you. No need to let the other spousal unit suffer through the night along with you.
One day I got sick, a raging throat infection, some rare virus my doctor explained to me but I have since forgotten for reasons you will soon find out below. Anyway, this was a particularly nasty virus. Breathing was painful. Sitting doing nothing was painful. Eating or drinking liquids was out of the question.
I become dehydrated. I must start drinking liquids or I will be admitted to the hospital so they can stick an IV in me. The doctor gives me hydrocodone, and I torture myself for what seems like hours swallowing the pills.
Only, come to find out, I am allergic to hydrocodone. I will spare you the details of dry-heaving for an hour while it feels like someone is taking a cheese grater and ramming it down your throat repeatedly.
Okay that was a detail but I digress.
Anyway, back to the doctor I go. My doctor is ten years younger than I and does not mess around. He sympathizes with the hydrocodone episode and stamps my file with DON’T GIVE THIS PERSON CODEINE, EVER. Then he prescribes Stadol from an inhaler.
Stadol is an opiate like codeine. It is a drug sometimes given to pregnant women in labor who are having severe pain… AND HORSES.
So I snort the Stadol as soon as the wife comes home with the prescription.
And let me tell you. In a MINUTE I was not feeling any pain at all. None. Zip. Zero Nada. Pain Level Zed.
I drink… something… the wife gives me. I feel soooo much better getting hydrated. I smile at the wife and let her know how much I love her.
“I love you LambChop!”
“I love you too. I think you should try to get some sleep.”
“I love you! Want to have sex?”
“But I am feeling so much… where am I, anyway?”
“You’re at home.”
“I thought we were going to the movies?”
“Ooookay let me help you upstairs.”
I wake up to pain. And, it is dark.
PAIN! INHALER! SQUIRT! Ahhhh… … … …
…Oh my God my bladder… Off to the guest bathroom.
Time to wash the hands. Only, where is the bar of soap? Huh. Oh there it is. Who put the soap in a tube? And why does it smell like mint? Oh well. Wash wash wash.
Back in bed. Hmmm this feels nice. Oooo a glass of water on the nightstand. Slurp slurp slurp. Opps. Now there is ice on my pillow. Oh well. Crunch crunch. Bleh. Fuzzy ice.
Lying down again.
Hmmmm, it’s cold.
Okkkay, it’s cold because it’s snowing in the guest bedroom. Soon the duvet is covered in snow.
I’m not exactly a big snow fan, and I hate being cold. So I go downstairs and look at the thermostat. 68 degrees F. Well, that isn’t nearly warm enough. Let me crank that sucker to, oh, I don’t know, 80!
Back up stairs, only it took me a long time to make it up there.
I wake up again. I am sweating. It is hot. My pillow is wet. Why is it so hot?
I crawl downstairs. Standing up makes me a little dizzy, so I crawl to the office, and manage to get into the office chair which conveniently has wheels. And the downstairs conveniently has hardwood. Zooom!
Zooom! Living room window! Let’s open that sucker.
Zooom! Living room window number two!
Zooom! Office window, oh hey I forgot about that one. Let’s open that one too!
Oh, I bet I can turn down the heat. Roll roll roll roll.
Uh. Can’t. Reach. Thermostat.
Um… think think think think… hey I wonder if the wife wants to have sex yet?
Think think think… boobies…
Think think think… why am I in the hallway? Oh, that’s right, the thermostat! AH-HA! I know!
Roll roll roll roll, toilet plunger, roll roll roll roll.
I whack the thermostat with the plunger, weakly, several times. This does not turn off the heat. I do not know why.
Screw this, I’m going to bed.
Roll roll roll roll.
Stairs. That’s a loooooooong way up. How on Earth am I going to get this chair up there?
I flop off the chair and manage, through a Herculean effort, to get it on the landing.
SCREW THIS. If I keep this up I will have NO energy for sex.
Crawling up the stairs isn’t so bad, although I am sure zooming up them with the chair would have been faster.
Okay, halfway there.
Hello kitty cat. Move.
OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD MOVE YOUR FURRY ASS BEFORE I FALL DOWN THESE STAIRS.
Okay, this is not the bedroom, this is the bonus room. Dork.
Okay now this is the future baby’s room. Dork.
OOoo Baby! You first have sex with the wife, and then the baby comes! NOW WHERE IS THE BEDROOM?
Ooooooo I found a bed.
With a wet pillow.
Why do my knees hurt so much?
Ummm, pain. Oh that’s right, I have something for pain and it is right here.
So what movie are we going to see again?
I am sure my wife found it annoying that the guest bathroom had toothpaste all over it. I wonder what she thought when she also found the furnace was running full blast with the windows open down stairs, the toilet plunger in the middle of the hall and the office chair on the landing?
But she never said anything, only smiled and brought me more water in the morning.
Several years later I was talking to a woman and she mentioned her labor was particularly harsh.
“They gave me Stadol and it didn’t do anything for me.”
Stadol. They sometimes give it to women in labor…