Mars and Venus

Everyone knows that when a woman is ill, she’s really unwell.

When a man is unwell of course, it’s only ever a percentage of what the woman was suffering but naturally we like to make out like we’re dying, or similar.

In my defence, I have put a (fairly) brave face on how I have been feeling lately, what with this highly aggressive strain of tonsillitis that I’ve been struck down with this past week, but funnily enough, it isn’t a woman who has made me feel ashamed about walking around with my shoulders hunched, wincing every time I need to swallow, cough or sneeze.

No, as is more often the case nowadays, it was one of my children; in this case, Joseph.

We were having our usual nightly read in his bed before lights out and halfway through the book, I yawned, felt a stab of pain and put my hand to my throat before announcing, "Ooh, because I have tonsillitis Poops (which I caught from him anyway), it really hurts when I yawn!"

I turned to face him, waiting for an understanding arm to be put around me.

Instead, he blinked lazily, looking very tired, took his thumb out of his mouth and said, very matter of fact but without a hint of malice, "I know".

Bless his heart!

Before I was struck down with this lurgy, it was in fact Joseph who had been suffering with it but he looked like he had it bad. All the glands in his neck were visibly swollen and he was occasionally upset with the pain.

So why was I embarrassed?

Well, looking back I offered a couple of spoonfuls of childrens ibuprofen or paracetamol (as per the instructions, natch) and a glass of water, expecting him to merely accept my words that it would 'soon be better'.

Now I know how bloody painful it is (and must’ve been for him), well ….. it just makes you feel a bit of a wimp.

That is all.

Carry on!