Just call me Florence Nightingale

In less than two weeks, Chad will be having major surgery on his jaw. I could go into all the reasons, but it might be complicated - and while I'm fine with being open about my personal stuff, I do try keep the talking about other people's personal matters, well personal.

But I'm sure Chaddy would be fine with me telling you that he was having surgery so at least well-wishes will pour in from all our blog followers. (My numbers are growing every day - so as always, I'm so thankful for you reading my blog and being somewhat interested in what I have to say.) Feel free to send love notes, bouquets, and yummy homemade meals that only I'll be able to eat since Chad's face will be busted.

So back to Chad's surgery. I think all the women here with husbands will completely understand my lamenting about this.

Fact: Men are complete babies when it comes to sickness, injury or any health-related issue. Period.

I don't know if it's the fact that women have to menstruate once a month, or that God gave us a high threshold for pain since we have to birth children and all. But I know, personally, that I handle sickness much better than Chad. I don't take a sick day from work unless I'm dying. Headaches, cramps, nausea, etc. are pretty common things for me. I suck it up and push through it. So when I'm "sick" you know I'm really, really sick.

But I understand men are different. I grew up watching my dad act like he was about to keel over and die for having the tiniest little ailment, whereas my mom could be suffering from a rare, infectious disease but she'd still wake up, make us breakfast, clean the house all day, bake us cookies, etc., etc., etc. It'd take an act of God to have my mom acknowledge sickness. So with that said, I try to be very patient with my man when he's not feeling well.

For about three days. That's my limit of sympathy. After three days, SUCK IT FREAKING UP.

Almost 2 years ago Chad had sinus surgery. I was sweet as pie for the first day or two. Anything he needed - I was there. Poor guy had his nose broken and bandaged so that whenever he talked he sounded like Fran Drescher. I'd change his nose dressings, make him hot tea or gingerale, crush his pills up and put them into ice cream or applesauce (can't remember if I've told you - Chad can't swallow pills). You name it- I did it. I was Florence Freaking Nightingale.

On day three, I headed back to work. I was still super supportive calling to check in with him and make sure he's doing well and doesn't need anything. But was a little sick of all the babying and the Fran Drescher voice wasn't as cute as it was on, say, day one.

Day four. I'm super busy at work. At the time, I was working at a big PR agency and it was balls to the wall constantly. Taking a few days off from work to be with Chad put me a bit behind.

My phone rings.

Me: "This is Caroline."
Chad/Fran Drescher (please hold your nose while you say this to yourself so you can picture what I dealt with.) "Hi."
Me (busy): "Hey honey. What do you need?"
Chad/F.D.: "Well, I'm doing okay I guess. What are you doing?"
Me (busy): "Working. Chad, what do you need?"
Chad/F.D.: "I need applesauce. I'm all out. Can you stop by the store on the way home to get me applesauce."

Me: "Chad. Do you really need applesauce? We have ice cream and other stuff."
Chad/F.D.: "I know. I just want applesauce. Can you please get some?"

At this point in time, I was normally getting out of work til 6, 7 or even 8 at night. At the end of the day, all I wanted to do was be home. This is the excuse I give myself for what I do next to my three-days-out-of-surgery husband.

Me: "No. I can't. Call freaking Stephen (one of Chad's best friends who was kind enough to stop by and see him the first night of his surgery to make him laugh and cause his freaking packaging to burst and to start bleeding all over the place and then saying "Well, I guess this is a good time to leave!" But I won't go there. It's for another day.) to get you applesauce. He owes me."
Chad: "No it's okay. I guess I'll be fine." (assuming I'll cave)
Me: "Good. See you later."

I think of this story every time I see or hear the word applesauce.

But I told myself that was the first big surgery I had to go through with Chad and that next time I would be more patient... knowing good and well that another surgery could not possibily be as annoying as the first.

Now, with this jaw surgery, we find out Chad's jaw will essentially be wired shut and he will be on a liquid-only diet for SIX WEEKS. Yes, I can see you doing the math saying, "What?!?! He's having this surgery before CHRISTMAS?!" Yes, my friends. I'd rather die a sudden death than be stuck drinking my meals during the Christmas season - which is essentially, the traditional foods I look forward to eating all year. But six weeks it will be. He'll be taking off the entire month of December to recoop.

Luckily, this go-round, we're living with his parents for a few months. I've already coordinated with his mama that I will go with him to the hospital, stay the night with him in the hospital, stay home with him the following day, then my butt is high-tailing it out of there on day three for work and she can take him for a few days.

Fact: It is simply impossible for mothers to not want to take care of their sick children - no matter what the age. They live for it. My mama taking care of me sick is equal to buying myself a new wardrobe at J.Crew. These chicks live for it.

So there you have it. I - no doubt - will have plenty of stories to tell surrounding this surgery. Perhaps even a live blog of the funny things Chad will say once he comes out of surgery... because, if you've been around someone that has been put under by anesthesia, they say the craziest things when they come out.

But in all seriousness, do keep us in your thoughts in prayers. Chad for his poor mouthy, and me for my sanity.