When Kevin & I were dating in college, the poor guy didn’t take very good care of himself. He averaged about five hours of sleep a night and his staple diet included tater tot casserole, $.99 frozen Italian meals, and canned green beans. When he got sick, the idea of slowing down to feel better never seemed very convenient so he just plowed on through. Needless to say, this eventually caught up with him. I was leaving for a trip when Kevin finally admitted that he was sick. I did my faithful duty as a girlfriend and made a big vat of soup for him to eat while I was away. I even wrote him a poem entitled “Soup for My Sickie,” which elicited much playful teasing from his roommates.
So it felt like quite a flashback when Kevin started feeling puny in February. (As an aside, my mom always used to call my brother or me “puny” whenever we didn’t feel well. I imported this phrase into my marriage but my husband didn’t find it as quaint as I did. Offended his manhood or something like that) And it turned out to be…dramatic pause…the flu. All the poor guy could do for a week was lay around and moan. And I literally mean moan. The doctor couldn’t do anything either because apparently the flu is a virus and it just has to run its course.
Eventually, we became a happy & healthy home again. The whole ordeal did make us much more thankful for our health. We certainly take for granted the ability to wake up in the morning and hop out of bed, ready for the day. (Well, maybe not hop every morning but you get the point) So we are more thankful to our Creator & Sustainer for the gift of health. And this wife is certainly thankful that she gets to hum a different tune from “Soup for My Sickie.”