Between the dog on the landing and hubby beside me the snoring competition was reaching a crescendo and as usual my darling husband was leading the stakes. It was 4:24am and my brain was making patterns and songs out of the ungodly noise that surrounded me.
So, at 4:30am I made my way downstairs to make myself a cup of tea before I simultaneously suffocated the dog, and my husband with the pillow I had tightly wrapped around my head as a sound barrier.
Downstairs was dark and a little chilly but it was a noise free haven. The distant snoring continued like a chain saw echoing through a doomed forest but it was far enough away for it not to cause my brain to vibrate. One sip of the piping hot menthol tea, along with a deep breath, and I was feeling much calmer. This was my usual routine, although the wake up times could vary, depending on the volume of the snoring.
Each morning I would sit with my tea and try and figure out a way that I could happily live alongside my husband and dog when they tortured me every night with such consistent determination.
I had tried ear plugs, they hurt and were uncomfortable, headphones with music (I almost strangled myself in my sleep) and I had even done a one week stint on the sofa, all to no avail. Now, don’t get me wrong, my husband is adorable and treats me like a queen at every waking moment. My dog is the sweetest, most loving, obedient Golden Retriever you could wish to own when awake.
Asleep?! Now that is a totally different kettle of fish.
How would I ever solve the problem without divorcing them both? I can’t live with them and I couldn’t possibly live without them, but boy would I sleep. Sometimes the prospect of being struck deaf seemed quite appealing. My father in law had a hearing aid that he could turn off when he didn’t want to listen to the noise. I’d been envious of that little device for nigh on 20 years, that to me was a sheer luxury, talk about selective hearing.
My thoughts were disturbed by the heavy coughing coming from Minor’s bedroom, he’d had a slight chest infection and was back on his inhalers again. It didn’t sound too good so I snuck up the stairs to check on him. His breathing was raspy and shallow and I could hear his chest wheezing with every struggle of a breath, he was looking pale and his lips were a little on the blue side. I didn’t like it one little bit so decided to wake hubs and get him to A&E.
Upon arrival at the local hospital Minor was rushed straight through to paediatric care and stuck in an oxygen tent, it wasn’t the first time so we knew our way around. This time however they were more concerned and wanted to keep him in. My first thought (I know you’ll think I’m a lousy mother) was the elation at the prospect of having to sleep here, can you imagine how desperate you are for sleep that that thought should rank 1st position? Of course I love my child and his welfare is my main concern but my sleep deprived brain was making its own conclusions and doing a happy dance.
We were taken to a room that was already occupied by a small boy of about the same age as Minor, who was pumping coins into the TV box to watch Spongebob Squarepants, and his father. We made our brief introductions before the nurse closed the curtain and we had a little privacy. The day had been long, hot and uncomfortable. I had been informed that as we had private healthcare we would be moved to a private room as soon as one became available. Minor was quite happy watching Spongebob on TV from inside his plastic kingdom.
The long, hot day took a turn for the better and the hotter when Dr. Gorgeous floated into the room. I must’ve been staring mouth agape as I received a sharp, hard elbow to the ribs from my darling husband. “Grow up” he hissed through a clenched smile. Coming from the guy who had been checking out every nurse within a 2 mile vicinity, unfortunately for him there were no nurses under the age of 60 on this shift.
However, Dr. Gorgeous looked liked he’d just walked out of an episode of ER. His salt and pepper hair twinkled in the blue glow of the strip light above him and his hair flopped onto his forehead in a way that made me want to reach over and tuck it back. I sat back and watched him listen to Minor’s chest and then his back in a mesmerised trance.
His green eyes were kind and the laughter lines around them told me he was great company. Was it just me or was he catching my eye? Was there a little electricity sizzling in the room here? Once again I was snapped out of my daydream by hubby’s elbow missing my rib and jabbing my left boob.
“Ouch” I yelped, clinging onto one rather painful boob with both hands, much to Dr. Gorgeous’ amusement.
Feeling a bit of a tit myself and rather riled at hubby’s actions I felt the flush of embarrassment on my cheeks. I was hoping hubby would make his exit and head home before Dr. Gorgeous got off duty.
Again, I relaxed into just watching this man care for my son, that had quite an appeal to it too.
“He’s going to be Ok” he said with just a suspicion of a Spanish accent. “Bingo” I thought, ear AND eye candy. I leaned in towards him as he spoke softly…
“We’ll keep him in for observation, he has bronchitis which has triggered his asthma so we need to keep him in this oxygen tent overnight”, his lashes were long and dark and curled at the tip. The freckle on his top lip was just like mine. If we kissed our freckles would kiss too as they were on the same side…
This time it was a kick to the ankle, I swear I wish I’d have taken hubs out with my pillow that morning! What the hell was making him get so aggressive, I never made a fuss when he was eyeing up the ladies, we’d agreed that’s what eyes were for! His favourite phrase being “just because I look at the menu doesn’t mean I’m eating out”. Well, let me look at the bloody menu for once without shattering my ankle bone, breaking a rib or popping a boob! Jeez!
Dr. Gorgeous floated from the room as beautifully as he’d floated in. I had to physically remove my eyeballs from his back as he turned and gave me a little smile before he left. He was coming back in 2 hours, my brain was on overdrive and I was on cloud nine. I turned around to find hubby with his hands on his hips and the foot tapping. That was never a good sign, like the flicking of a cat’s tail, his eyes narrowed and his lips drew a thin straight line. I almost giggled, he looked funny but I knew it would cause trouble so I kept my giggle firmly inside my head.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”, he spluttered, “Our child is lying in a hospital bed and you are having mind sex with his Dr.”.
Hmmmm put like that I feel a little embarrassed at my over zealous imagination, momentarily.
By Gillian ~ Desperate Housewife Spain