Day 69: Leave Me Alone . . . Why Aren't You Here When I Need You?

You know how when men are sick they usually are kind of like whiny children and need women to take care of them and when women don’t feel well they tough it out, take care of the kids, make dinner, and deal with whatever needs to get done? I’m not like that. I’m kind of a bitch when I don’t feel well. Although, in my defense, being under the weather is usually related more to various types of headaches rather than a cold or the flu. I suppose fore many people suffering from a severe stress headache or migraine would cause them to be still and quiet. Headaches usually do not precipitate loud or obnoxious behavior, unless you’re me.
When Jeff was home a headache for me meant a day of trying and failing to make me feel better interspersed with verbal abuse and apologies for said abuse. I don’t know what it is that makes me need or want to criticize him when he is trying to help me, but for whatever reason, he is never more annoying than when he wants to help. A typical situation goes something like this: Ame is in bed with a migraine. Ice packs are balanced or ace bandaged to several spots on her head, much medication has been ingested, and ever noise or movement stresses her. Jeff pokes his head into the bedroom to ask if Ame needs anything. “Honey, do you want some tea? Or do you need more ice?” This concerned query is met with a gem something along the lines of: “No! Why do you have to keep bothering me? I just need to be left alone, stop hovering you are so insensitive!”
After a few repeat performances of this routine, each one met with an increasingly abusive response from me, I take action that goes very close to this: Ame, exasperated with being ignored when she clearly needs caretaking heaves off the covers and stumbles weakly into the kitchen to get fresh ice, a cup of tea, some soup, etc. Jeff, upon noticing her says “Baby, what do you need I’ll get it, go back to bed and lay down.” Ame spins her head around without pivoting her body, an angry expression contorting her face and says, “clearly not! You know I don’t feel good and yet I have to get up to get everything myself! It would be nice if you actually fucking cared!” Then she roughly finishes filling the ice packs, bursts into tears and shuffles off to bed.
You don’t have to say anything, I realize I’m a real treat. Why is it that being sick or in pain makes us so unbearable to live with sometimes. I know Jeff is trying to help and is not a mind reader. The funniest part about it, is that in the five years we’ve been together I have had dozens of headaches and yet each time the same scenario plays out. Why he hasn’t just given up I cannot imagine. Why I continue to blame him for not knowing the exact moment I might need something is equally boggling. So he tries, I’m an obnoxious ass, he apologizes for basically doing nothing wrong, then I feel guilty and apologize for being a huge bitch, only to do it again the very next time. So after careful examination of myself, my motives, and my behavior I have come to the conclusion that Jeff needs to do a better job of predicting what I will feel when and what I will need when I feel it.
I don’t care that you are in Iraq fighting a war. I have a damn migraine, you need to be here to annoy me until the minute I actually do need something, you’re not there, I get it myself, then scream at you for not caring. How dare you expect me to behave like an adult. I don’t have kids, do I look like a Mother to you? Only Moms know how to handle illness properly. Duh! You don’t even love me, if you did you’d stop being so mean and heartless when you know I don’t feel good. Love is so much fun.