Grrrr...

This is a vent post about why I hate my husband's job.  Be warned.

I came home late last night to find Hubby passed out on the bathroom floor.  Literally.  The kids and I went to church before Hubby was home from work.  I had a practice afterward so I sent Son #2 and Big Sis home with my aunt.  She dropped them off at the house, apparently with their father.

I arrived home about twenty minutes later.  Son #2 met me at the door and said, "Dad's really sick."  I knew he was sick because he called home from work and asked me to set the NyQuil out.  He tends to be a bit dramatic when he's sick so I wasn't too worried.  I hung up my coat and Baby Girl's coat, took off my shoes, and put my bag away.  I walked upstairs to find my husband lying on the bathroom floor.  I called his name.  No response.  I called his name again.  Still no response.  I nudged him with my foot and called his name louder.  Still nothing.  Son #1 was already next to him when I got there and told me, "He has a pulse."  Well, I sure hope so!  This time, I leaned down, shook him, and yelled his name again.  He opened his eyes and stared blankly at me. 
"Why are you laying on the floor?!" I asked. 
"I don't know," he said. 
"You don't know?!?!" 
He kind of shook his head while still lying there.  He attempted to sit up and fell back down. 
I asked if he was asleep or if he passed out.  He said he didn't know but his head hurt. 
"Well, yeah, you probably hit it on the sink!"  He assured me he didn't hit his head, it was just a headache.

I finally got him up off the floor and into bed.  I asked again several more times if he was asleep or passed out.  He couldn't remember.  He said he was sitting by the toilet, throwing up, and that's the last thing he remembered.  I'll just be honest and say that I was totally freaked out.

I questioned Son #2 about how he found his father when he arrived home.  He said Dad was sitting on the floor with his back to him, leaning up against the sink.  #2 tried to talk to him but he didn't answer.  I told #2 he should have immediately called me.  He said he thought Dad was just feeling bad and didn't feel like talking.  He didn't notice if his eyes were open or closed.  Hubby apparently slumped over onto the ground from that sitting position.

Once in bed, he was making a bit more sense.  I asked if he had taken the NyQuil.  He said he had but threw up right afterward.  I told him he wouldn't be able to go to work and I would take care of it if he needed me to.  "No," he said, "I have to go to work.  It's peak season."

I slept on the couch to allow him to rest.  I was so worried about him that I hooked up the baby monitor in his room so I could hear if he needed me. 

So, a grown man was passed out from sickness, he was monitored during the night by a worried wife, yet he went to work in the morning.  That's just not right.

This morning, I got up when he did.  Again, I tried to talk him into calling off.  "She, you can't call off there!" he said.  (Which I know is true.)  I was worried about him driving into work but he assured me he would be fine.  I knew I was fighting a losing battle so I went back to bed for another 45 minutes.

Years ago, my husband was in the hospital.  I had to call into his work and tell them he wouldn't be in a for a few days.  Those people had the nerve to give me a hard time, telling me they wouldn't be able to cover for him.  I got quite rude and told them he was hospitalized and there was nothing he could do.  They acted like they were doing me a giant favor.  Gee, thanks.  Another time when he was in the hospital, they told him that he was in danger of losing his contract if he didn't service it.  Thanks, guys.

So that is why I hate my husband's job.  But in this economy, who has the right to complain?  At least he's employed.