Modern Medicine, You Are Pretty Cool

I thought about calling this post “Keep your man-cold to yourself, Dammit!” but decided against using an expletive in the title. I’d like to save that for special occasions.

So as you may have gathered, I caught the man-cold. This could be because a)HRH spits nasty loogies in the sink every morning that I have to clean out while attempting not to dry heave. I think Good Housekeeping refers to this as “multitasking.” Or it could be because b) HRH is not an NBA player and only manages to get his disgusting used tissues in the general vicinity of the garbage can. The garbage can has a lid, actually, so this behavior is what I refer to as “being a lazy bastard.”

Whatevs. Point is I caught his cold and I think it’s his fault for not doing a better job controlling his boogers.

Of course I can’t take days off and don’t have a wife I can call from my cell phone when she is in the other room to bring me sh!t. (Note to prime minister: please make phoning people who are in the same house a crime. Because it’s annoying. Really annoying.)

This week has been a mess anyway, with Sister starting preschool and Brother going back to school and PTA meetings and paperwork and oh my god I actually accidentally referred to myself as Brother’s mother at Me Too’s PTA meeting (失礼) et al ad nauseum. The end result was that I kept getting sicker and sicker until I woke up Friday morning with a high fever and feeling like crap.

I’d gone to bed feeling feverish and bad, and I told HRH I wasn’t feeling well, there was bread in the breadbox and soup in the fridge, sort out breakfast yourself, please and thank you. Which he did, sort of. Except that he didn’t feed the kids.


I had planned on making cinnamon rolls and had bread dough in the fridge. So I rolled them out, added the sugar and cinnamon, rolled them up, cut them, and put them in the oven. Then I went back to bed. HRH took them out of the oven, but didn’t give them to anyone.


Then he goes into this long schpeel about how he knows I feel bad, he’s working all weekend and doesn’t have any clean shirts, but I shouldn’t overexert myself by doing laundry, even though he has to work all weekend and doesn’t have any clean shirts.

Lucky for him I was sick, actually. At that point he went to work, thank god.

Of course I didn’t do any laundry. I called the neighbor and asked her to please take Me Too to school (her son is in the same class.) Me Too starts freaking out. It was only her third day, after all.

Fine. I’d just have to find some Lou Farrigno-esque Incredible Hulk powers to get her little butt to school.

I cancel the neighbor and go about getting everyone ready to go their respective institutes of education.

Brother’s school had a class observation day, followed by a PTA meeting. I told him I probably couldn’t go. Then he starts to cry about how important it is to him that I be there, and how sad he will be if I don’t come.

Fine. I don’t know who I should channel this time, X-men maybe? It is the PTA we’re dealing with, after all.

Somehow everyone got where they were supposed to be more or less appropriately dressed, more or less on time. By this point my fever was 38.7C and my head was killing me. I headed over to the local doctor. Well, not actually the localist doctor since he, apparently, is in jail for groping a teenager. (When did they start arresting doctors for that in Japan? She must be the daughter of someone important.)

The second most local doctor is a 女医, which means a she doctor. That’s relatively uncommon here, especially for her age group (late fifties, I’d guess.) I walked into the office and it was crammed full of old people. I was anticipating a long wait and wishing I’d brought a book when I was guided to the “contagious corner” where they stick people with things like chicken pox and the plague. Seemed like overkill, but hey, I got called in after about five minutes.


The doctor wanted to practice her English on me, I guess. I left without understanding much of what she said. But I got back to preschool in time to pick up Me Too, which wouldn’t have been possible if I’d had to wait my turn. And I had a prescription for some antibiotics and an NSAID and was feeling much better by the afternoon.

We managed to get to the last bit of Me First’s class observation thingy. That was good; apparently he’d announced in front of the class that his mommy was sick but she was coming anyway because I’m her special boy.

So I’d like to give a shout out to modern medicine, especially the antibiotics. I know you get a bad rap about being overused and whatnot, but you helped me out of a pinch. Modern medicine, you are pretty cool.


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. gaijinwife
    Apr 16, 2012 @ 19:15:30

    Glad you’re feeling better :)
    Great post.


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