Injury
“Your MRI confirms that you have a disc herniation between L4 and L5. There are a couple of options…”
The rest of what the doctor said was a bit of a blur as I processed the fact that permanent damage to my spine was causing my excruciating and debilitating pain. Not exactly the way I hoped to finish out 2021. But as I rest and recover—a process that’s taking waaaaay longer than I’d like—I’ve been reminded of a few practical and spiritual truths.
Injuries force us out of our set ways.
Whether it’s a paper cut or a broken bone, you have to make some adjustments to your usual patterns and behaviors while you heal. My injured back means I cannot sit at my desk or stand at the altar. Your broken wrist means having to do everything with your non-dominant hand. Even something as small as a paper cut, in just the right spot, can change how you go about basic tasks. When you’re injured, you have to do things differently.
Injuries affect all of you, not just part of you.
When you’ve suffered trauma, whether physical or mental, the rest of you doesn’t function at 100% capacity either, because the rest of your body (and your brain) is overfunctioning to protect itself. If you hurt your right leg, your left leg works twice as hard as you limp and favor the injury. But also, with all that hobbling around, you might find yourself more impatient and short-tempered. Injuries are rarely, if ever, isolated.
Injuries involve grief.
Temporary loss of our regular capabilities is still a loss. If you’ve ever had a severe injury, you might have had moments where you thought, “I might never be able to [fill in the blank] again.” As a dancer with a back injury, I mourn the loss of my strength and flexibility, that my injured back won’t let my legs jump and stretch and lift like they used to. I grieve a part of me that might be gone forever.
Injuries can help us strengthen parts of us that we’ve ignored.
When I go to physical therapy, we never directly target the area on my spine that’s injured. We strengthen everything around it—hips, glutes, legs, core—and build up a layer of protection around the injury. The best way to relive and heal pain isn’t to keep poking what hurts; it’s to strengthen the things that surround and support it.
Scars are a reminder of pain—but they’re also a sign of new life.
The Christian faith is based on death and resurrection, so this may seem like an easy or obvious insight, but I’ve gotta be honest—it doesn’t feel that way when the wound is still fresh and the scars haven’t formed yet. So the image I hold in front of me as I recover is the resurrected Christ, who still had holes in his hands, feet, and side. Resurrection and restoration don’t bring a return to the former, to what used to be. They bring life after death, life after trauma, life that is different, life that bears scars, a life that will never forget the wound.
But life nonetheless.