Dave came home from a recent trip with chills and an upset stomach. He looked pale and unhappy and said that he had been super cold and had been pretty nauseous for the last 24 hours. It's funny because he's so matter of fact about the whole thing. He said "Yeah, having an upset stomach makes it kinda difficult when you're skiing." Kinda difficult. When you're skiing.
See, if it had been me and my upset stomach, I would have been hovering near the bathroom anxiously. I would have been convinced that this was the flu to end all flus and that I was on going to be throwing up any second now. Skiing? No. Getting on an airplane? Hell no! I would have holed up in a hotel room with cable television and pajamas and whined my way through the next 24 hours.
|Me when I feel a tiny bit of an upset stomach.|
|Dave with horrible diarrhea, nausea and chills.|
Then there would be another 24 hours where I would be afraid to eat. JUST IN CASE IT CAME BACK. And I would probably have to cancel everything for that day too. JUST IN CASE IT CAME BACK. And for the next two weeks, every time my stomach so much as burbled, I would be SURE that it meant I was headed back to Flu-ville.
But not Dave. Dave simply took breaks when he needed them and continued on his merry way. And though this didn't happen to Dave, I know quite a few guys who if they couldn't make it to the bathroom...well, they couldn't make it and there would be laundry later. Oh well.
Dave just doesn't hold on to things or create some sort of terrible story about things. He's like the dog who just vomits and then feels better. Thankfully, Dave doesn't then try to eat his vomit. He has limits, ya know.
Dave took a short nap and then thought "I just need a salad." This goes against everything I've ever learned. Haven't you heard of the BRAT diet, Dave? You can't have a salad! For God's Sake all that fiber will make it worse! Don't you know that you're sick? I didn't say that. Probably because I wasn't home at the time.
So Dave eats a salad and feels better. He figures it was probably too much pizza and beer the week before. And he probably only figured that because I badgered him into coming up with a hypothesis. What kind of human doesn't come up with some sort of hypothesis about HOW they got sick and what they had? Oh, yeah. A male one. Who sometimes (and I'm totally jealous about this) is just more of animal than I am and doesn't need a crazy story to go along with feeling shitty. Of course, if I didn't have crazy stories to go along with everything, then what the hell would I blog about?
So, I'd like to give thanks that Dave doesn't tell stories and that I do. Now I better go check out that mole and figure out why I'm still coughing and if that pimple is just a pimple or the Pimple of Impending Doom.