I'm not going to write many posts about my dear, first husband who passed away quite suddenly in his sleep. However, this topic is relevant to my blog, so I'm going into this topic today.
My first husband was a dear, dear man who truly loved me as Christ loved the church. He was selfless and generous to a fault. He went to such extremes as to not ever make me feel uncomfortable in any way, including a time when he underwent surgery to remove a small mass from his upper thigh.
The post-surgery care included the changing of bandages and cleaning of the wound. He wouldn't let me do any of that, preferring to clean his own wound and reapply a fresh bandage.
He and I argued about it, but he made it clear that he didn't want to make me feel uncomfortable to have to go "down there" and clean him.
"Why do you think that would make me feel uncomfortable?"
His reply: "You don't like to get up close and personal with that part of me."
Ouch. He was right. I never thought about it. I was downright repulsed by the prospect of any up close examination of my own husband's private parts. Now when he needed me to be comfortable (VERY COMFORTABLE) looking, cleaning, examining, and being extremely familiar with every inch of him, he didn't feel that I would want to be bothered.
Plus, I'm sure it would be humiliating to him if he had even a passing inkling that I was thinking to myself, "Ewwww!"
I did this to him by my attitude and my actions. There were certain parts of him that I simply would not explore, especially putting my face down there.
Then when he needed me to do a practical thing that a wife should do, he didn't trust that I would be willing to follow through, so he did it all by himself.
Talk about being a help-meet. Sheesh!
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