Slinging Our Marriage Vows like Monkeys Flinging Poo

I’m two weeks from my breast reduction and still dealing with a nasty wound infection.

This is my exhausted husband, about to drench that gauze in antibiotic juju and shove it into an infected flesh tunnel inside my right boob. About an hour later, I severely cut my foot in the kitchen, so he also spent some time mopping up my fresh foot blood. Ladies, find yourself a man who will do the non-sex related disgusting things of life. This should be a no-brainer, because so much of living with human bodies and raising human children involves blood, puss, poo, vomit, all the gross and stinky things- but I hear tell of A LOT of men who still won’t even buy tampons for their women’s bloody holes, or adequately care for their splattering newborns while their wives recover from birthing them, and that’s all straight-up malarkey.

So, anyway, he’s also been working full-time the two weeks since my surgery, plus he’s been on the hook for almost all the parenting and household stuff. So, you’d think I’d be being really grateful and nice to him, right? Hahahaha, no. We’ve been married for a long time. He is my whipping gentleman. I’ve been feeling like shit, so HE, too, must feel like shit. It’s the only way to maintain balance. I don’t make the rules. I’ve been trying to pick fights with him for days, but he was calm and accountable and INFURIATING, but yesterday on our drive into San Francisco to see my surgeon, I finally won and he called me “insufferable.” But he didn’t even say it with any real energy. His…