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Doesn't that sound prettier? We should try and find alternative names for other inconvenient diseases. Like, instead of a cold sore, we could call them "lip nubbins" - doesn't that sound adorable?
No? Still gross? Ah well.
When you think about it, aren't we humans all pretty gross at times? I mean, we ARE animals after all, with the same body hair, odor and growths issues that afflicts primates. And yet, we think because we have evolved mentally (somewhat) we think our bodies have, too. We live under the unrealistic belief that we are always perfectly scrubbed, clipped, and neat, when in reality, catch anyone on a bad day, and you'll see what humans really look like. And that gives me comfort, actually. Imagining a perfect specimen like Gal Godot is somewhere hunched over a toilet clipping her toenails makes me less envious of her and reminds me that she, too, is human.
Mother Nature has a way of reminding us, like an actual mother scolding her kid, you ain't above anyone else. It's a good thing, I guess. Humiliation is humbling by its very nature.
I go into all that because, as I mentioned before, I currently have pink eye. Remember being a kid when pink eye would go around at your school and every class had to go home with a flyer informing your parents to be on the lookout for symptoms? I do. I remember actually hoping to get it. It's not like being sent home with the flu to contend with. Pink eye only affected your eye and other than some itching and discomfort putting eye drops in, it was a pretty sweet gig. Banned from school because of how contagious it is, you could just curl up on your bed in your quarantined bedroom watching a game-show marathon in between short naps and snack breaks.
Of course, that was before you really realized how you GOT pink eye in the first place. According to the Mayo Clinic, pink eye is caused by a bacterial or viral infection or an allergic reaction, however we always assumed it simply meant you didn't wash your hands properly and touched your eyes. Which makes this disease even more embarrassing because you are forced to walk around reminding everyone of your mistake. It's like The Scarlett Letter, except this letter is "I". Or "E" for eye. Whatever, you get the idea.
But I will say this. Not looking your best in front of your partner is a great way to enhance your intimacy. Seriously. You can tell a lot about your relationship if your better half is willing to do something you know grosses them out just to help you out.
For example, I need to put these drops in three times a day for the next week. On the first day, after I realized I had pink eye and was able to get a hold of a doctor who put a prescription for eye drops into my nearest Publix, I then had to actually get the liquid into my eyes. This was not so easy. For one, the tiny bottle was made of such hard plastic that I couldn't tell if I was squeezing it right. And then by the time a nice big droplet was ready to fall into my gaping eye, I would blink, which basically meant my eyelid was just a horizontal windshield wiper for my eyeball (which, I guess, IS its function). I'd try a few times before I finally felt the drop go in.
What I needed was a man who would be willing to hold my hand as I was holding the bottle and direct me right over my eye so I wouldn't keep missing.
Enter Joe.
I texted him while I was home.
Hey, I wrote, I kind of have a favor to ask you.
Sure, honey, what's up? He texted back, sweetly.
You're not going to like it...
I'm sure it's no big deal. What do you need?
Can you help me put my eyedrops in?
....
Now, Joe is one of the strongest, bravest men I know, but there are only two things that really set him off: one is the sound of my emery board as I file my nails and the other is anything having to do with eyeball stuff. I've been conditioned now that I always save my nail-filing for when he's not home but putting eyedrops in has never come up before.
I dunno, hun, He wrote back. I mean, if you're contagious I really don't think I should be near your eyeball? Then I'll just be getting sick right behind you.
You don't need to even touch the bottle, just direct my hand over my eyeball, I wrote. I could tell he was concerned but I think it was more about the act of putting something into my eye instead of contracting the disease.
I finally goaded him enough that he agreed to do it later when he got home for work.
So I continued to clean and disinfect when I got a look at my eye in the mirror. Let's just say it wasn't very appealing or attractive. And that's when I realized I couldn't do it. I couldn't put Joe through my human grossness. I wanted to spare him the experience of staring into my infected eyeball as his hand, nervously trembling, grasped the eyedrops bottle.
Later on when he got home, he came into our bedroom where I was with much gusto and enthusiasm.
"Ok, let's do this," he said determined and reaching for the bottle.
"You know what, hun, I got it," I said tenderly.
He looked surprised but also relieved. "You sure?" he asked.
"Yeah, don't worry about it. I got it," I smiled.
He left me to go run after Joey and I sat there still smiling at the fact that he would've done it, if I had really needed him to. I guess that makes being human a little bit easier, too- knowing you have another fellow human to lean on, who will look you in your infected eyes, and lend a helping hand.
*Was there ever a time your partner helped you out in an embarrasing moment of "human-hood"?
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