Jake hates doctors. Hates them. He’d rather paint his face blue and maize yellow and lead a University of Michigan pep rally than visit a doctor’s office. That’s an extreme example, but he’d also rather sit on our couch in his boxers and watch college football all day than go to the doctor’s. I know because that’s exactly what he did Friday.
He kept complaining that his ear hurt. I kept urging him to make a doctor’s appointment. He’d complain, I’d urge. Complain, urge. Complain, urge. You get it.
Finally, I agreed to stop urging if he agreed to stop complaining. Deal. Only Brett Favre’s wife knows shorter-lived agreements. The complaining ensued through the night.
Here’s what. Jake’s kind of a baby when he gets sick. I know, so is your man, right? But here’s where I win the “my man’s a bigger baby than yours” contest. Jake refers to himself in the third person — BY HIS PET NAME — when he complains of his pain. “Jakey’s ear hurts!” “Jakey feels achey!” “Jakey needs Tylenol!”
So, when he decided to stay home from a soiree we were supposed to attend together Saturday night, I didn’t exactly offer to keep him company in my nurse uniform. And, when friends asked to get together at a downtown bar afterward, I couldn’t help but see it as the light at the end of my personal “Shawshank Redemption” crawlhole. So, I ignored the alarm in “Jakey’s” tone when he sent four text messages that night. You would’ve too if your man, who has a habit of slipping on the cloth diapers and sucking the binky at the first tickle in his throat was claiming his ear infection was causing his ear to grow. Yes, grow.
In fact, I shared his silly texts with a couple girlfriends and we all had a good laugh — until about 2 a.m. That’s when I came home and found Dumbo in my bed. To my utter shock, Jake’s ear looked like someone stuck it with an air pump needle and pumped and pumped and pumped. It was overgrown. By morning it was something the elephant man would flinch at.
Yes, I booked a flight. Yes, it was a guilt trip. No, I haven’t made it home yet.
It’s called an outer ear infection, also known as Swimmer’s Ear. Before you go recommending he tilt his head and jump up and down, it’s FAR BEYOND that point. The ear canal is swollen. The back of his ear is swollen, which explains the Dumbo-effect. The front of his ear is swollen and the side of his face is swollen. Oh, and my heart is also swollen.
I felt so bad for not believing my Jakey that I gave him counter-clockwise swirls long enough to cramp up my fingers. I prepared him breakfast Monday morning and came home for lunch with chicken noodle soup. I didn’t complain once through football all day Sunday and again Monday night.
The good news is he’s on antibiotics and says the pain has improved. The other good news is that it’s significantly smaller and now just looks like he had an ear transplant and the donor was Walter Matthau. The bad news is I just checked the return flight on my guilt trip and it’s been delayed indefinitely.