"Afternoon Delight"

"How To Pill A Husband"

Mr. Tally is sick, and its not a pretty picture. The fact that he actually decided to stay home is a sure sign that he's really feeling bad. His head is stuffed up, he's coughing and running a fever. "I'b sick", he wails through impacted sinuses. "I don'd feel well." Take some medicine, I tell him. He refuses. I knew he would. Why won't men take medications when they're sick? Alan will only take drugs if they're prescribed. Prescription meds are macho. Over the counter medication is wussy. He'd just rather be miserable and cranky.

I prop him up in bed with extra pillows, some magazines, a golf tape in the VCR and the remote control. I can hear him turn on the TV. Alan believes that using a TV guide is a crutch. Real men don't need no stinking guide. He'd rather hit and run with the remote.

I can hear the Sony burping through all the channels. "The sun will…Marsha, Marsha,…young leave the nest at the age...carrot curls and parsley add a nice touch to…total and complete devastation…add 1 egg and some prune…swing the club head down towards… bangbangbangbang…Lucy, you have some 'splainin to do…SCREAM!…Your Honor I object…This is CNN… found Fred in bed with…I'll take the letter p…"

It drives me crazy.

I plead with him to get some sleep "I can't sleep. Its dayblight." I shut the blinds. There, now just close your eyes. "I don't wanna. I can't sleep when the sun's oud." Buster jumps up on the bed and looks him earnestly in the face. "Its easy Daddy. You just get under the covers and go way down to the bottom where it's real dark. Here, I'll show you." And he dives under the blanket and burrows down to the foot of the bed. I have a meat tenderizer in the kitchen. Over the years I've threatened to use it when Mr. Tally starts thrashing around at night, pulling the covers off. I call it The Sleeping Aid. I volunteer to go get it.

Donovan is snuggled up on Alan's chest, keeping him warm when suddenly Alan has a coughing fit. Poor Donny tries to hang on to a bucking chest by digging his claws in. I guess its kind of hard to cough and scream at the same time. The wracking upheaval turns out to be too much for Donovan, and he gets thrown off. Kenya starts jumping up and down. "Daddy's coughing up a hairball. Daddy's coughing up a hairball!" In our house a Hairball heave is an Event. Everyone wants to see someone else have to go through it. I hear at least two thuds as Gizmo and Sammy jump down off some perch and come running into the bedroom.

"Boy, it must be really far down in there," Buster tells Kenya. "And shouldn't Mom be shoving a paper towel under him?" Boots wants to know why I'm not putting dad down on the floor so he doesn't barf all over the bed. "Maybe we should give him some Petromalt," suggests Tally (the cat). Gizmo offers to chew a hole in the tube so they can get some on his hands. Zeke is telling me maybe I don't brush dad enough. In between breaths, Alan is glaring at his audience.

"Honey, can you make me some chicken soup?" I bring him the chicken soup. "I wanded tomato soup," he whines. Sigh. I'll eat the chicken soup. I bring him some tomato. "Id's too cold, can you make it hodder?" Another sigh. OK, is this hot enough? "I'm hot, can you turn down the heat….I need an extra blanket…did you clean the cat boxes…can you bring me some Kleenex…do we have any orange juice….cough, cough…can you go get some?". Grrrrrrr. I know he'd feel a lot better if he would just take some cold medicine and get some sleep.

After a second coughing fit I decide to be firm. I bring in the cough syrup and some decongestant. Please take this. It will make you more comfortable. "I don't want it". Argh. Why are sick men so stubborn? You have to take this medicine.

"Why don't you just wrap him up in a towel, mom," little Kenya asks, "and hold him between your knees?" Boots has his own opinion. "No, no, you have to grind up the pill and mix it with water. Then you can just syringe it into his mouth." Zeke's favorite method is mixing it in food. "Why don't you put it in the soup?" Now there's a thought. The soup du jour is Cream of NyQuil followed by a Dimetapp hors d'oeuvre. There are 4 of them on the bed now, ready to help me pill dad. Gizmo is blocking the doorway in case he tries to escape. He knows the drill. Donovan, a slow learner, is back on Alan's chest. "Here mom, I'll hold him down. Just get his mouth open and pop it in. I've seen you do it a thousand times to Sammy." Eighteen-pound Zeke offers to sit on his head and help Donovan hold him down. Sammy jumps up on the bed. "And I'll chew his hair mom. Will that help?" Buster wriggles out from under the covers. "You have to keep his mouth closed so he doesn't spit it out." Yeah, well Buster you should know.

I stand there with the pills in one outstretched hand, a glass of water in the other. There are 9 pairs of determined eyes burning into Mr. Tally's face.

"Take your medicine, and no one gets hurt."

Alan looks around silently, and reaches out for his medicine. He's outnumbered, and he knows it. How do you pill a husband? All it takes is one human and 8 extremely helpful cats.