Life moves us along in ways we don't expect, swirling us up in currents we can't predict or anticipate.
We've gone through a good number of surgeries in the last years, and the path of post-surgical recovery is pretty familiar: manage pain, keep track of medications, do the necessary doctor follow-ups, facilitate the recommended physical therapy, and tend to a wide range of needs and wants that contribute to keeping the "patient" comfortable.
With this particular surgery, the added challenge is that part of the recovery process is that His right shoulder and arm must be kept immobilized as much as possible for something like four weeks. He's gotten amazingly adept at managing a lot of things with His left hand (assisted by the very restricted right hand/arm in its sling), and He isn't nearly as dependent as any of us feared He might be.
Still, some things are pretty near to impossible without help. The one thing that we've found that He really still needs significant help with is showering. He can't wash His own hair, or reach all the places that need to be washed and rinsed, or dry Himself off, or... And so, our daily routine has come to include a time for me to help Him bathe and dress. It is a simple thing, really. A small thing that most of us take for granted -- hop into the shower, soap up, rinse off, towel dry, comb your hair, dress and go. Helping Him do those things is, on the face of it, pretty mundane stuff -- a service rendered, a necessary chore.
Under ordinary circumstances, none of that would be very remarkable, but in our "one armed" reality, physical contact and intimacy is pretty complicated and significantly limited. Showering together is turning into a time and space for us to just enjoy each other. That seems important to me, and I suspect there is a lesson in all of that for me. If I had words for whatever it is I think I've learned sitting on the floor of the shower, washing His feet, I'd put it here, but all I really know is that it feels good to me to be right there.