When a Problem Comes Along, You Must....Lick it?

At the beginning of Week 3 of my Mystery Illness, I had a breakdown.  I hadn't slept well (or been to the gym!) since October, I had a constant vague feeling of nausea, vague vertigo, the constant pressure in my head and neck made it impossible to ever find a comfortable position sitting, standing or laying, and in the last 24 hours, I had only eaten 1/4 cup of Kraft Dinner.  A suspected sinus infection gone awry, my doctor ordered x-rays last week which, by the time of The Breakdown, hadn't arrived yet at her office and, therefore, I was still in limbo with no light at the end of the tunnel.

As Hubby put the kids to bed, I curled up on the couch under a blanket to watch a movie.  It was impossible to find a position for my head that didn't either increase the pressure in my head, or cause nauseating pain in my neck.  I was so tired. SO freaking tired of this! I curled up in a ball and cried.  Actually, "cried" is an understatement.  It was a full-on ugly cry, heaving sobs - the kind that are usually reserved for teenage angst or viewings of The Notebook.  I'm-so-sick-Why-doesn't-anyone-take-care-of-me-I-just-want-to-be-taken-care-of-Can't-anyone-see-that-I'm-sick-What-is-wrong-with-me-Why-doesn't-anybody-care-that-I'm-so-sick-I'm-going-to-be-sick-forever-and-nobody-appreciates-me. Hubby came out and found me, and curled up behind me.  After almost nine years together, he knows by now that words don't always help, and sometimes a girl's just gotta cry.

Twenty minutes later, I was starting to wind down the pity party...but what's that sound? Somebody else was just getting theirs started.  The Little Man was in his room screaming his heart out (which he always does when someone other than me puts him down for the night. Kind of flattering, really, that he can't sleep well unless my face is the last he sees).  I went into his room and rescued him, put on Finding Nemo and tried to cuddle on the couch with him, but he wasn't having it: he didn't want to lie down; he wanted to sit. 

I moved us over to the chair and got him comfortable, tucking a blanket around our legs.  My tears started again: This-chair-is-killing-my-neck-I-feel-so-sick-Everybody-needs-me-to-help-them-but-nobody-helps-me-WHAT-is-WRONG-with-me-WHY-am-I-STILL-sick-I'm-going-to-be-sick-forever-her-her-her!

I watched the movie, quietly crying.  Mr. Man looked up at me and whispered "Noooo..", and held my hand. More tears. He's-so-sweet-he-can't-even-talk-and-he's-trying-to-comfort-me-My-neck-is-KILLING-me-I-feel-so-sick! 

Again, Mr. Man looked up at me, said "Noooooo!" and stood up on the chair so I had to look up at him. He looked into my eyes, and I swear he looked concerned. "Noooo." He took my face into his little hands, stuck a finger in a tear, leaned in..."Nooo..."....and licked my tears away. "Mmmmm", he said with a grin.

Caught off guard, I burst out laughing.  This little guy is not even two years old, has a vocabulary of maybe twenty words...How did he know that all I needed was a good licking?  It was the sweetest thing I think anyone's ever done for me.