Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

25 July 2011

Whiny-Ass Men

Men are the biggest babies in the world when they're sick.  Period.  End of story.  

Okay, maybe not quite the end, because Dan is lying in bed AS WE SPEAK potentially dying from a baseball umping injury.  

He can barely move without assistance.  He needs me to help him get up out of bed and then lie back down again.

You'd think I should feel sorry for him.

You'd be wrong.

Back story, before you decide I am a cold, heartless bitch:  Dan spent Saturday umping at a youth baseball tournament.  He was behind the plate and since he is large and the children were small, he had to spend a lot of time squatting.  My man is fat and out of shape.  (Bless his heart.)  He injured his hamstring and his lower back attempting to emerge from a full squat.  

(God strike me dead because I think that's funny as hell and I kinda sorta wish I'd been there to see it.)

He came limping and moaning home Saturday evening and spent 20 minutes trying to get up the stairs.  I was sympathetic and kind, gave him a leg massage and lower back massage, plied him with Advil and TLC and didn't once make a disparaging remark.  


Sunday we spent the day driving through the mountains and wandering through old graveyards.  Every time he had to get out of the truck, this is what I heard:

Dan:  *moan* *whimper* *gasp*  "Daniiiiiii... oh my godddddd.... my legs are killing meeeee... *moan* *whimper*  Daniiiiii.... my back... my whole lower body hurts...."

Me:  "Sorry, baby."

(But honestly... what was I apologizing for?  I didn't do it.  I didn't tell him to spend a entire day hunkering down behind home plate in 100 degree heat.  He didn't even ask for my opinion.  If he had, I would have said, "You're fat and out of shape with weak knees and a bad back." And you know what?  He would have done it anyway.)

So yesterday I was sympathetic. I was nice, I catered to his whims, waited on him hand and foot, and "poor baby'd" him until I was throwing up a little bit in my mouth.

And then?  Last night?  THIS happened:

Dan was lying in bed, moaning and groaning and unable to move.  He used the house phone to call me from the bedroom (seriously.... he was 10 feet away from me but apparently too weak to call my name) and tell me he needed help getting up so he could go to the bathroom.

I rolled my eyes, mentally called him a giant wuss, put my book down, dislodged Maisy from my lap and walked into the bedroom.

(Important sidebar here:  Dan is 6'2 and weighs 265 lbs.  I am 5'1 and weigh considerably less than that.  And... GO.)

He held out his arms for me to grab his hands and pull him into a sitting position.  With much grunting and pulling on my end and much whimpering, gasping and moaning on his, we managed to get his legs over the side of the bed and him sitting up.

He reached his arms out again for me to help him stand up.  He grabbed my wrists and I yanked back as hard as I could.

Him:  "Don't stop!"

Me:  *%$#@!*  "I'm not!"

Him:  "Pull harder!"

Me:  *pulling with all my might and main*

Him:  *letting go*

Me:  *flying backwards into the wall, tripping over his size 14 fucking work boots, and landing on my ASS in the closet*

Him:  *still moaning from pain*  "Are you okay?"

Me:  *breath knocked out of me but seriously, SERIOUSLY pissed*

Him:  *starting to laugh, the rat bastard*  "Are you all right?"

Me:  *sooooooo not finding this funny*  

Him:  *showing a modicum of concern beneath his obvious mirth*  "Dani, are you okay??  I'm sorry, I didn't mean to let go!"


Him:  "I didn't think you'd fall like that."

Me:  *fuming and kicking his boots and saying bad words*

Him:  *trying to look really, really sorry while laughing himself stupid*


So this morning, he called in almost dead and is staying home from work.  After the required bitching, moaning, whimpering and complaining about how much pain he's in, we had this conversation:

Me:  "You do realize that I'm done feeling sorry for you."

Him:  *nodding head*

Me:  "You do realize that if you call me on the phone from the bedroom to ask me for anything, I will kill you."

Him:  *nodding head*

Me:  "Just checking."

I did go to the store and buy him some icy hot and a treat, but that's all he's getting out of me.


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