By Linda S. Lee
My husband Terry had performed the 6:00 A.M. and midnight wet-to-dry dressings on my abdomen and chest for several months. I battled post-operative gangrene following mastectomies and reconstruction six months earlier. My eight-day hospital stay and single surgery had turned into four surgeries so far, three months in the hospital, and then a nursing home because of the aggressive infections and related complications. Now visiting nurses came to our home twice each day while Terry was at work.
I knew I had not been a picnic to live with. The pain and immobility kept me housebound and frustrated. I'm sure he wondered why he pulled so many strings to get me out of the nursing home early.
One night we had an argument. It was not over anything significant, but it was the first since the surgeries. We hadn't made up yet, but it was bedtime. However, before bed he still had the complicated dressing changes to complete. Terry had no medical training, but the nurses had taught him how to clean and dress the wounds that covered my front from hip to armpit.
Terry helped me recline on my side of our bed. I sensed the tension in the air. I still felt hurt from our disagreement. I didn't know how he felt because he is quiet when upset. That night was no different.
I looked up at him and said, "This isn't fair. I feel too vulnerable here with nothing on while you take care of my wounds when you are still mad at me."
He walked away. A few minutes he returned and stood, still silent with a half--smile on his face. He was stark naked.
"Terry, what are you doing?" I shrieked with laughter.
"Just leveling the playing field," he smirked--then tenderly changed my dressing.
Reprinted of Linda S. Lee (c) 2000 from Chicken Soup for the Caregiver's Soul by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen and LeAnn Thieman.
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