Man Colds. They're almost equivalent with the death bed, or just terminal illness in general. I've witnessed a few in my lifetime, growing up with three brothers and such. With them however, my sense of empathy was diminished after an approximate ten years of hearing their whinging, enduring bouts of "Don't tease me, you have no idea what it's like to have a cold". I think finding new people has broadened my sympathetic side. Instead of just offering to not give dead-legs for the period of time they are ill, I will also throw in a complimentary hot chocolate and a blanket. I will not, however, perform tasks that are not written into my duty of care, or do things merely for the sake of doing them. Neighborino made me very happy when he said "Megan is no-one's bitch".
Julie Baby used to proclaim she was a terrible nurse. I would second this notion. Her catch-cry for our childhood was 'give it a week and see how it goes', which could be I've had fainting spells for four years now - we're hoping things will improve soon.
Given my childhood of learning to 'tough it out' or 'walk it off', I never really learnt how to look after someone - or be sympathetic to their plight.
MrIkea was sick. The day went along fine, no sign of illness. Come nightfall and suddenly he was bleary eyed, looking very concerned and coughing. The first evening I separated the couches so that all illness would be further away from my healthy self. Occasional arm pats, head rubs and other non-germ infected physical touch was administered, until he eventually fell asleep on the loungeroom floor while I googled places to get tattoos.
I realised I perhaps am not the most caring when it came time to wake the sick one, and all I could think about was how fun it would be to jump on him, or typewriter him into being awake.
I did neither, partially because I'd like to continue seeing him - but mostly because I didn't want to spark a coughing fit and risk my own health.
I think I need to work on my nursing abilities.