As I stood in my back garden a few weeks ago throwing up my worst fear wasn't 'Oh crap, I've got swine flu' but 'Oh crap, I hope steve doesn't catch his'. Which he did transforming him from a 27 year old man to a 6ft 3 baby.
Don't get me wrong I love my boyfriend but the whole world seems to stop whenever he gets ill. If it was up to him, I would abandon everything and be by his bedside taking care of him. I bought him cought sweets, Lemsips and medicine but whenever I ask him if he wants something he puts on this martyr face and says no he'll be OK. Which to me roughly translates to 'No, I won't have any medicine I'll just moan about how terrible I feel to you for the next six hours!'.
It doesn't help that a few months back he started smoking again. So whereas I can shake off a cold in a few days, he has this horrible chesty cough (that wakes me up at night and makes me wanna throttle him) that lasts about three weeks.
He says he started smoking again when he started gaining weight (who's the woman in the relationship me or him?) but to be honest I would prefer to have a fat boyfriend with clean lungs than a thin one with black lungs.
Maybe its the way I was bought up (my dad was very strict) but whenever I get ill I just get on with it (of course Steve gets send home and is practically bedridden for a week). It's silly really (I've only had one week off sick in five years) but I feel guilty about the poor sod who has to do my shift if I phone in.
Maybe I'm the one thats odd and Steve is the normal one (if not a bit melodramitic). I just thank god that when the time comes its me that has to give birth not him.