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My honey bunny threw out his back this weekend moving heavy boxes into our new apartment and literally couldn’t move unassisted for 48 hours. Despite my lack of qualifications for the job, I became the de facto meal-maker, bath-giver, walker-to-the-bathroom, and all around nursemaid.
Luckily for us both, I passed the Not Nurse Ratched test with flying colors. He’s back on his feet, albeit in a shuffle-y, wobble-y kind of way.
I’ve heard that saying that if a couple really wants test its compatibility, they should go on a week long vacation to a foreign country together. But actually, I think one partner nursing the other back to health is a better indication! Surprise, surprise, you don’t need a nurse’s uniform (though he’d probably like that) to take care of a sick dude. But you do need love, patience…and a bulls**t detector.
- In the Absence Of Actual Medical Knowledge, Sympathetic Cooing Goes A Long Way: Damned if I know the relative merits of Motrin vs. Advil, or the safety concerns of ingesting several-years-old codeine pills. But furrowing my brow worriedly and exclaiming, “Poor baby!” seemed to alleviate some pain. Back rubbing also helped.
- Prepare For Things To Get Really Intimate: My guy crawled to the loo while I was preoccupied on a phone call for work and, of course, pulled his already-hurt back muscles the wrong way. I found him writhing on the hallway floor in pain and asked why he didn’t just wait for me to get off the phone. He said he didn’t want to gross me out by asking for my help with the potty. I said I could handle it and that if we ever have kids some day, he’s going to have to handle some “gross” bodily functions, too. Ultimately, I think he’s just too shy, but I made it clear that I find nothing about him or his body “gross.” Because, really, I don’t.
- It’s OK To Be Just A Smidge Bitchy If It’s For A Good Cause: The most frustrating part of the whole experience for me was how antsy he got about healing now now now. If I were forced onto my back for several days, I think I’d enjoy kicking back and watching daytime trash TV! But he kept trying to test the boundaries of his pain by crawling around, climbing up on the toilet by himself, etc. Just go slowly so you don’t hurt yourself again, I wanted to scream. Finally I straight out requested he “not do anything stupid, please.” I think fear of pissing me off kept him from potential further injury. continue reading...
--- Jessica Wakeman for The Frisky
