The “male bug” has hit the Patterson home, and I don’t wish that upon anybody with an ounce of sanity still left in their mind.
I would like to call it the “man bug,” but since it involved my twelve-year-old son who is far from a man just yet…we will settle for “male bug.”
The male bug is an illness, ailment or injury that hits the male species within your household. Now, it can affect any age from the tiniest of toddlers to the most elderly gentleman within your family. Regardless if it is a common cold or a simple sprain, the male bug will escalate into the most severe of all illnesses, one of deathly symptoms and catastrophic outcomes.
I thought this diagnosis was only common in grown men. But this week, within my own home, I have determined that it can strike any age…especially a young twelve-year-old who is picking up habits from his father.
My oldest son James caught a nasty bug this week. Granted, it was not the flu, but it was a diagnosis that involved a high fever and just downright fatigue as he lounged around the living room for a few days. In between shot cups of medicine and a heating pad, he managed to keep a few hot meals in his system. But overall, I know my poor baby felt awful.
And then there is my darling husband Jason…who had a hurt knee. As a disclosure, I will admit that I am not making fun of his ailment. I know it is painful, and the proof was in the fact that his knee was about the size of a grapefruit for a few days. But…the way he handles it is another story.
Imagine a soldier in the trenches with an injured leg, struggling to drag his body into a safe zone while also still defending his post…that is Jason when he has a knee injury. Everything is a struggle to escape near and certain death.
Being with a man for over a decade, you learn to accept his behavior and you may even prepare for it when you see it coming. With a sigh and maybe slight eye roll, you continue with your daily business and ensure your husband he is going to recover.
But now…my oldest son has joined the ranks. He has joined in with this spectacle.
I already knew that they both would need constant attention and care. I predicted that they would be a little dramatic.
But I never thought that I would have to listen to days of them both being so vocal about their worries that they would not pull through their situations. Within an hour, they went from being fine to being bedridden.
“I’m dying, and nobody cares,” James groaned, as I handed him an extra blanket. I was just happy that he didn’t ask me to check his temperature for the hundredth time.
“Just roll me down to the pond,” Jason bellowed from recliner. “I’m fading fast. At least you’ll be able to collect on my life insurance policy.”
To listen to those two, you would have thought they were knocking on death’s door. The end was near. It was the end of the road. And no one cared as the world continued to turn while they struggled to survive.
I will end the suspense here by letting you dear readers know that Jason and James did survive. Jason was not rolled to the pond, and James pulled through his woes.
I really don’t mind it though. Jason and James do a lot for the Patterson house. They help make it a home. So, if they want to put on those award-winning performances during times of illness, I will let them.
It’s the male bug, with no known cure or remedy. It has inflicted families for generations. The best treatment for the patient is to let them wail it out.
And for the caretaker? A glass of wine is known to ease the symptoms.
