*warning–this post talks about stuff that goes into toilets*
*also Lolly says I need to clarify that she approves of this post 100%*
Over the weekend Lolly got really bad food poisoning. But she’s
insane a tough cookie, so even though she was–how do I put this delicately?–bleeding into the toilet, she kept insisting that she was fine. And our doctor, whom she called, insisted the same.
Personally, I feel that when you’re “lighting the toilet up with red” as the doctor described it, you have permission to claim you are on your death bed.
But not Lolly. Here was our conversation yesterday morning before church:
Josh: How are you feeling?
Lolly: Well, kinda dizzy actually. Not awesome.
Josh: Why are you getting ready for church??? Are we sure you
shouldn’t be going in to the doctor?
Lolly: No, no… it’s not a big deal. I’m dizzy cuz I’ve lost a lot of blood.
That’s just part of life.
Josh: Or it’s part of death.
Lolly: Right. Which is also
just part of life….
Josh: I’m taking you to the hospital.
Lolly: You’re taking me to church. I will be fine.
Josh: Or dead.
Lolly: Or dead. Which counts for extra points at church.
Josh: You don’t need extra points! You are already like angel status because you’re married to me.
Lolly: You need to find your shoes so we can go.
Josh: *sings* If
you leave me now, you’ll take away the biggest part of me, oooh eeee, baaaby
please go to the hospital…
Lolly: All right girls, let’s get in the car for church!
There was nothing I could do to deter her. Can somebody tell me how to talk sense into this girl?
Thankfully she really does seem to be just fine now. But I fear scenarios like this in the future. Like her getting her arm chopped off in a car accident and insisting we take Anna to her violin lesson before getting her appendage re-attached, or her wanting to grab a quick bite to eat before getting pesky medical attention to repair an axe wound to the neck. I’d be like “but you’re bleeding” and she’d be like “yes that’s just part of life” and I’d be like “you are literally going to die if we feed the kids right now!” and she’d be like “it’s okay I have baby wipes for the blood all over the seat…”
One thing’s for certain. I didn’t marry a prissy girl. Which gives me plenty of space to be the prissy gay husband. *limp wristed wave*
UPDATE: This isn’t really an update as much as me having forgotten to link to this post
about when Lolly went to Disneyland even though she was literally throwing up in the bushes. Klassy. And determined.