You can thank evolution for this particularly elegant defense mechanism. Basically, when a man is physically ill, he should refrain from any form of physical activity to prevent further strain or injury. Therefore, nature seeks to shut down our natural macho sex drive by reverting to using the “upper brain” rather than the “lower brain” we are typically using. The “upper brain” of the typical male goes into hibernation when an interest in sex is developed, usually around the age of 11. Therefore, it has not matured past that age, and often has even backslid a bit.
Also an evolutionary mechanism. How can the species survive if nobody’s cooking dinner?
From my point of view (a decade and a half in private practice) it’s the women who come in to see the doctor more often than the men for transient, self-limiting conditions such as colds, headaches, backages, and upset stomachs. Clinical data bears that out.
As for behavior in the home, I don’t know of any reliable studies being done on that. At my house, Mrs. Mercotan and myself are generally pretty stoic over trivial illnesses.
I suspect it’s a matter of individual personalities as opposed to true gender differences at home. IMHO.
Huh? Is it that your husband is too much of a jerk to pamper you when you’re sick, or are you too ungrateful to notice?
My wife takes care of me when I’m sick, getting me movies and making me soup and tucking me into bed. I take care of my wife when she’s sick, getting her movies and making her tapioca and tucking her into bed. It’s one of the thing spouses are there for.
Men actually cost less for disability insurance, generally, because they don’t get pregnant, and they tend to dismiss their injuries and refuse to be treated: “It’s only a flesh wound.”
I really can’t understand why so few people on this board get my humor. I really detest smilies, but should know by now that they are necessary for some.
When I’m sick (and I’m a man, dammit), I don’t want pampered. In fact, I want to be ignored. I don’t want anyone talking to me, or doing anything for me. I prefer to be left alone.
I know of only one guy who likes to be pampered when he’s sick. Even when he has a hangover, his wife dotes on him, watching over him, saying “I love you, sweetie” every few minutes. Sickening.
I also would like to point out that Giraffe is one hilarious mofo.
When I’m sick, I would love to be pampered. (I’m a fella.) Unfortunately I’m single and my family members all live in other time zones, so there’s not much pampering headed my way.
So on the rare occasions when I’m sick I just suck it up and go to work. I figure I can go to work and feel terrible, or I can stay home and feel terrible, and the latter at least lets me reserve sick days for their true purpose: hangovers.
I pamper ladybug when she’s ill, serving her soup and grilled cheese in bed, rubbing her feet, doing chores, etc. And she’s very grateful, and tells me she’s a lucky girl.
When I’m ill, I pout. I don’t like being ill, I don’t like being stuck in bed, and I especially don’t like being quarantined from activities that run a high risk of transmitting the bug to my fiancee. So I’m a grump and not pleasant to be around.
I think in medical jargon they call me a “terrible patient.”
(Just turn up the morphine drip and leave me alone.)
I don’t have a need to be pampered when I’m sick. I usually just carry on as always. I haven’t been seriously sick in over a year, though, and I’m wary of my own recollections.
I have chosen not to get sick any more. It’s great. I haven’t had a sick day from from work in 15 years. Only one day for an injury, and even then I just worked from home.
That is along the line of my first thought upon reading the OP. In the words of the great sage, Mr. Miyagi: “You too much TV.”
I’ll occasionally suffer with a migraine headache, my only request is to be left alone. I had one GF who would pout if I so much as left the house when she was ill.
Female type person here: I want to be left alone to wallow in misery and trashy novels when I am sick. However, I fully expect to be interrupted periodically with exclamations of “oh, you poor baby!” and offers of backrubs/hot tea/tomato soup. If the WryGuy’s not around to perform thusly, I just call a friend and whimper until a suitable amount of sympathy is forthcoming.
The WryGuy himself is the big Sickie Martyr. “No… I don’t need anything… I’ll just lie here and suffer in silence…sorry to be such a bother…”
Bugger that. Fortunately for him, I know he really wants to be babied and pampered, and I am more than happy to do so.
I’m a woman, and I fully expect to be pampered and allowed to revert to little-girlhood when I get ill. I want to be tucked up on the sofa under my duvet, given plenty of Disney videos to watch and supplied with soft-bolied eggs and warm milk with honey till I feel better. Not to mention I need lots of sympathy and back rubs and so on. Unfortunatley, it’s a family trait that while we all agree we need this sort of pampering., we each have a reserve of only 24 hours of sympathy. If you’re not better in a day, tough. Someone else needs that sofa, damnit!
I pamper my wife even when she isn’t sick. Of course, I think I’ve just gotten used to it because she’s sick so often. I, on the other hand, am very, very rarely sick, and even then it isn’t much more than a stuffy head or scratchy throat. Besides being slightly more miserable than usual, I do everything pretty much the same as any other time.
