My husband used to lock himself in the bathroom every morning at 4 a.m

What I saw shattered me.

Richard sat shirtless on a wooden stool in front of the sink, his back completely exposed under the harsh fluorescent light. His skin — dear God, his skin — looked like it had been through hell. From his shoulders down to his waist, it was a landscape of thick, raised scars, angry red patches, and shiny, discolored tissue. Some areas looked like melted wax. Others had deep craters and keloid scars that twisted across his spine. His shoulders were hunched as he carefully applied thick ointment from several tubes, massaging it into the damaged skin with slow, painful movements. His face, reflected in the mirror, was tight with pain.

He was whispering something under his breath.

“I’m doing this to protect you, Ellie… I’m doing this so you don’t have to see…”

Tears flooded my eyes so suddenly I had to cover my mouth with both hands to stop myself from sobbing out loud. I stayed there, frozen, watching the man I loved tend to wounds I never knew existed. When he finally finished and began cleaning up, I slipped away silently and returned to bed, my entire body shaking.

I didn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

—

The next morning, when Richard came back to bed, I was sitting up waiting for him. The sun was just beginning to rise.

“Eleanor?” he said, surprised.

I looked at him, tears already falling. “I looked through the keyhole, Richard.”

His face crumpled. For a moment, I thought he might run. Instead, he sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands.

The story came out slowly, painfully, over the next several hours.

—

**The Accident – 1972**

We had only been married for a little over a year. I was pregnant with Michael and struggling with terrible morning sickness. Richard was working extra shifts at the plant to save for the baby.

One freezing January night in 1972, a terrible accident happened at the steel plant. A ladle of molten steel malfunctioned during a pour. Richard was one of the workers nearby. The splash of superheated metal caught him across the back and part of his left shoulder before he could fully turn away.

He spent six weeks in the burn unit at Cook County Hospital. The doctors said he was lucky to be alive. The burns were third-degree in several areas. Skin grafts were taken from his thighs and buttocks. The pain was unimaginable.

But Richard made a decision in that hospital bed.