Uncle Fred’s Hernia

I loved my Uncle Fred. His middle name was Victor, just like mine. We used to go and visit my Auntie Ivy and Uncle Fred pretty often. Both of them always seemed to have a kind word and time to talk to me.

Uncle Fred had a problem. He had a hernia the size of a football, maybe even larger. The fact that he was a short man made the situation more visible.

When I was a child, I’m sure that I must have inquired about the huge bulge in his pants. I know this must have happened because I was aware that I must not mention it. Even though it was plainly visible, I was not to say anything. The subject was taboo.

I remember asking my mother if the situation could be fixed. She assured me that a quick visit to the hospital would correct it. She told me that Uncle Fred didn’t trust doctors and didn’t want to go to one.

I often wondered why Auntie Ivy never did anything. I imagine that she must have tried, but I wondered how she showed her love by allowing her husband to suffer shame and humiliation for decades, even though it was his choice. Also, I don’t think it helped their intimacy. Sure, she loved him, but is it really loving somebody by being gentle with him when firmness is needed? Shouldn’t a person’s love sometimes help another to overcome fears by encouraging him to confront them in very strong terms? For love to be between two people, both have to have a say. Maybe she tried and just gave up.

Then something happened. Uncle Fred got ill and had to go to the hospital. The doctor took one look at the massive hernia and operated on him immediately.

A few days later, Uncle Fred got out of the hospital. The next time I saw him, he was a changed man. He acted like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders as well as his crotch. A wide grin spread across his face. His voice was lighter. The shame had been lifted from his life. His spirit emitted a new positive feeling.

I’m sure he wondered why he hadn’t had the problem looked at years ago. It is not so funny how fear can paralyse us into accepting the unacceptable.

There are times when I know how Uncle Fred must have felt. I, too, have hernias, not literally, but figuratively. The only problem is that my hernias aren’t so visible. They are fears in me that have prevented me from realizing my full potential. It has only been when I have been forced to deal with them that they have instantly vanished.

I used to be painfully shy. When I became a commercial writer/producer, I was forced to meet clients and instantly tell them how I could help them. At first, I was terrified. From there I became a schoolteacher. Students are like sharks. If any of them smell fear in your blood, they respond in a negative way. Again, I had no choice but to cope with the situation. Like Uncle Fred, I am thankful that these situations that placed me in positions of no escape came my way. I was forced to deal with the problems. Doing so was painful, but has left me smiling. I am glad I didn’t go through my whole life wasting years plagued with unconquered fears.

So, what is in your life that is like Uncle Fred’s hernia? Do you want to go through years of suffering and humiliation like he did when you can get help and deal with the situation? Just like riding a bicycle, it may be pretty scary at first, but when you realize that you can do it, you will realize that the fear of falling no longer controls you and you are truly free. You have the opportunity of soaring with the eagles or walking around like a turkey. The choice is yours.