What I Said Is NOT What You Heard...

I'm laying in bed a minute ago, whining about not feeling so good. Last night I experienced hot flashes, cold sweats, the shakes, and my heart was racing...I'm assuming my hormones are trying to figure out what the H is going on with my body at the moment. Today, I'm totally fine but I am feeling pretty worn out.

I say to Dusty, "Um, I've got problems."
"Huh?" he replies, not taking the hint. We don't really talk about bathroom issues, don't do anything bathroom-related around or near each other - it just crosses both of our personal boundaries, so this is a stretch for me to even bring up.
"You know..." I say. "I can't go."
"Ooooooooh....." he replies, understanding now. "Well, what can I do?"
"I'm not sure," I reply awkardly. "The doctor said the only thing I can take if this happens is dulcolax."
"Dook hole wax?" he repeats. I must have looked at him like he had three heads before I turned eleven shades of red and then enunciated, "Dul-co-lax."
DW busts out laughing so hard he's doubled over, holding his side. As is true to form, his lips turn blue when he laughs really hard...but this time they're actually a deep shade of purple.
"Seriously?" I stuttered, still embarrassed.
He finally recovers and stands up, trying to keep a serious face. "Alright, babe..." he says, "I'll go to the store and bring you back some Dook hole wax."

Men! Do they ever really grow up?