A little while ago, I was downstairs eating my “dinner” (I’m on a very odd schedule). In fact, I was on my first bite, when I heard the bedroom door open.
Followed immediately by the sound of vomiting.
Well, I was really hungry, didn’t want to lose my appetite, and, most importantly, have always believed that puking people are best left alone for the moment. I mean, what can you really do for them until they’ve stopped? I myself despise being asked “Are you all right?” when I’m so obviously not, and can’t answer anyway.
So I continued gobbling, and, when I heard the bathroom door squeak, called out, “Sweetie, are you okay?”
In response, Mr. Rilch staggered downstairs to get water from the fridge. After ascertaining that it hadn’t been the pizza or the cookies (both of which I made, and he praised highly, so I would be crestfallen to find that they were lethal), I followed him back upstairs. I stroked his forehead, soothed him with endearments, and generally babied him until he told me he was okay to go back to sleep.
Then and only then did he start griping at me for not having come upstairs immediately. The explanation I gave above was met only with a sarcastic projection of cops not responding to our frantic call about a break-in because “well, ma’am, our blood sugar was low”.
I think he’s really upset, but I don’t know how he can claim I don’t care. I did all that stuff for him, and I was and am genuinely concerned, even if he’s not impressed with my way of showing it.
So my question is: Are you supposed to drop everything and immediately rush to the side of a puking spouse? I would assume an exception would be made for pregnant wives, but perhaps not. But in this case, was I right or wrong?