FFS! The Two Words That Strike Fear into Every Woman: Man Flu

Man flu. Two words that strike fear into the heart of every female; be they mother, wife or partner. Luckily for women in Germany there is now an intensive care ward (as written about in this satirical article here) to send them where they will be treated for stuffy noses, sore throats and gasp-horror even a mild temperature. If only they would open similar facilities in Australia. I don’t care what it would cost but I would definitely be sending my husband there as a priority.

Unfortunately he suffers regular bouts of Man Flu where he is struck down to a feeble infant-like capacity which requires around the clock care involving the administration of Panadol, tissues and lozenges. Warm baths need to be run, hot water bottles need to be at the ready and of course the all important arranging around him of the soft, fuzzy blankie. Further requirements may include finding interesting television viewing involving wars, motorbikes or action thrillers with Bruce Willis. Deep Heat is regularly applied to aching muscles and a supply of Vicks VapoRub is always at the ready. It is also imperative that toast with the correct application of butter to vegemite ratio is regularly supplied.

This is, of course, in stark contrast to any time when I am struck down by anything ranging from appendicitis (where I had to take a bus home from the hospital), removal of wisdom teeth (cooked my own mashed potatoes for two weeks), and childbirth (back to work in our café two days after having my last baby).

Alas my husband isn’t just struck down with Man Flu, the poor baby. He also suffers constantly from severe injuries to various body parts including but not limited to his wrist, knee, neck and back which renders him unable to complete any physical tasks around the house, or go to the gym (yet oddly he is still able to ride a dirt bike when called upon). Fortunately I am usually able to procure a cure for each of these conditions. After several weeks of listening to him moan in pain, I make appointments for him at the doctor and each time he receives a referral for either an x-ray or ultrasound. Much to my lack of surprise in all instances, the diagnosis is “we can’t find anything wrong” and he is magically better.

The most severe bout of agony came about when he had his septum repaired several years ago. This required the implementation of a leather recliner and a bell for him to ring so I could immediately run and tend to his every need. However the moaning, writhing and general complaining actually got so bad that I became deeply concerned and eventually called the doctor’s surgery to speak to the nurse on duty who advised: “tell him there’s nothing wrong with him, he’s just being a big baby”. (I had hoped they would re-admit him but sadly I had to continue with my role as primary nurse).

So please ladies; pen to paper, let’s start petitions immediately so the appropriate facilities so urgently required in our country can be made available to those in need. Us.