The remarkable survival of my husband from man flu.

man flu

noun

a cold or similar minor ailment as experienced by a man who is regarded as exaggerating the severity of the symptoms.
“David was off sick with man flu, according to his wife”
“David was close to death, according to David”

Man flu. An almost fatal condition widespread across the globe.

There are websites and a Wikipedia page dedicated to the condition. It must be serious (note, sarcasm).

Of course, it’s a LOT worse than the standard common cold that us women get. WAAYYYY worse. It kills, don’t you know? Almost all cases have been almost fatal at some stage.

Last week my husband Davy (aka David, see above) was suffering the deadly condition. And boy, did he make us know ALL about it.

Foetal position on the couch. All day, everyday. Image supplied.

Common statements made:

“You don’t know what it’s like, child birth would be a breeze compared to this endless suffering”

“Stop asking me to help, my head hurts”

“No I don’t want to sleep it off in bed, we don’t have a TV there”

“Beer, Panadol and Nurofen quick”

Patient MC (Man Child) as we’ll call him went through various stages...

Stage 1: Early onset - MC thinks he’s coming down with something and decided to ‘mute’ it with alcohol consumption.

And the beer HAS to be Cooper's (which, incidentally, is where we got Harry's middle name Cooper from - the beer he was drinking when we decided to try for Harry). Image supplied.

Stage 2: Definitive diagnosis - the nose has started running, and my 100kg plus husband/MC is doubling down on the cold and flu tablets at an accelerated rate of knots. Berrocca, Lucozade and whiskey are all on standby. MC is in the foetal position. Can’t get his own sandwich. But definitely has enough energy to grab a beer, give me grief and control the TV.

Stage 3: Acute 'Man-ingitis' syndrome - The deadly man flu has taken hold. He’s on the couch whimpering. But still has the energy to scoff a bag of chips and complain. The Google symptom searches have begun. He is sure he is dying. Preferred treatment includes coddling, cuddling and blow jobs (well, only if you’ve managed to do some online shopping without him noticing, while he was curled up in a ball complaining).

CODE RED - It's getting serious. Image supplied.

Stage 4: The end is near - As his parenting-to-cough ratio continues to slide, my workload increases - whilst his naps and endless social media updates on 'man-ingitis' increase. Far out! Regular intervals of complaining “I don’t love him enough” and “Where’s the compassion?”. I know where I’d like to stick the fucking thermometer!

CODE RED - It’s getting serious, air ambulance is on standby, BECAUSE....HE'S LOST HIS APPETITE!

Treatment: Cuddling, ego mopping (not brow mopping), ambivalence, no sarcasm.

At least he'll snuggle the baby to sleep, useful for something! Just don't breathe on her MC... Image supplied.

Fact: Women cannot get man flu. It does not attack humans with the XX chromosome, only those with the XY chromosome. This genetic mutation effectively immunises females against Man Flu. This may account for the reason that women widely believe that Man Flu is actually just the common sniffles, but with a bit of extra drama thrown in for good measure.

Fact: Men would have you believe that the only way to combat the crippling effects of Man Flu is complete withdrawal to the sofa and uninterrupted mollycoddling by the girlfriend / wife.

Man Flu destroys lives.

My husband's remarkable recovery can be attributed to the amount of sport he has watched, naps he has taken and time spent avoiding household tasks and parenting.

A remarkable two day turnaround and he’s back on the golf course, in a T-shirt in winter (supposedly a jumper messes with his swing).

And he wonders why I don’t care as much as he wished I did.

The post originally appeared on Me Oh My.