First Things First

couplehood chronicles

First Things First
April Johnson launches a first-person column of being married, but has to overcome a little sickness first.
BY APRIL YAYOI JOHNSON

April Johnson
April Johnson battles the coughs and sniffles.

There’s a first for everything and there's no doubt the first year of marriage can be absolutely life altering. Just like hitchedmag.com itself is in its first year, I’m in my first year of being "hitched." And to kick off this first year of discovering the world as a "we," there’s a laundry list of things I’m ready to discuss. But lo and behold the season of sniffles and hacking coughs stopped my creative juices dead and brought me to yet another first in marriage… the "to have and to hold, in sickness and in health?"

I have had what I proudly boasted as an impervious immune system that laughed in the face of viruses, bugs and whatever health annoyances others seemed to routinely fight. I approach my then boyfriend, now husband’s ailments with the same attitude, and actually with a touch of irritation since his frequent, "I’m feeling funky so can we just stay in tonight" requests at the onset of another cold always fell suspiciously on Friday afternoons—dashing my hopes of an evening of fun and excitement beyond our living room couch. Our very tame night staying in inevitably concluded with my husband, Tony, snoring on the couch as I pleaded unsuccessfully for him to get up and move to the bed.

So here we are, in the thick of the cold and flu season and I am shocked, shocked! to find myself almost immobilized by the flu. And, this is the third time I’ve been sick this season. Suddenly, I’m far from the picture of perfect health and it’s depressing. I’m weak, got the chills, a fever, a cough and generally feeling miserable. What I want is my man to comfort me and make things a little easier. Is that too much to ask?

Instead of hugs, I got ribbed all day long by my husband for not being able to help out with the Super Bowl gathering we hosted. He also told me to drive myself to the drugstore if I needed some medicine. It hurt he didn’t seem concerned with my condition, especially when I was truly feeling down physically and mentally. Tony’s apparent insensitivity started to get me even more feverish.

Before I shared my feelings with Tony, I came to a Nyquil-fueled realization. Every time Tony got sick I doled out heaping doses of antagonism from my never empty bottle of know-it-all. "You always get sick because you don’t eat right and you don’t exercise!" I’d chide. Of course, I had to point out my daily exercise regiment and penchant for fruits and vegetables, as if I were a superior specimen of health and he a sickly barbarian who relied on beer for his sole source of grains. I was, basically, a cold bitch, bereft of compassion. Without Tony even consciously doing so, he was now giving me a taste of my own medicine. And boy was it bitter. And you know what? I deserved it. I was so quick to condemn his behavior until I saw that I helped create this dynamic in our relationship and that I’d have to be a part in its undoing.

After a good talk, Tony and I came away understanding that when the other’s sick, an empathetic hug, sweet words and a helpful hand are just as important as cheering each other on in moments of health. Immediately, Tony began showing genuine care and concern for me and made a concerted effort to make life easier. Now, he feels like he may be getting sick. Better start honing my bedside manner…

Married since April 2006, April & Tony brave crazy So Cal living and have loads of unbelievable tales to regale.

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