Three Gifts from a Wound
giving thanks for the generous hole in my back
Two months ago I felt an unusual bump on the upper right side of my back. It felt like a hard pea underneath my skin. Unfamiliar, odd, yet I only felt mildly concerned. Mindful, listening, yet not worried.
I asked a doctor friend, a nurse friend and a few others for their opinions. They suggested I get it checked out just to get a medical opinion and perhaps bring me peace of mind.
So I did — seven weeks later.
By that time, I had talked to it, asked what it came to teach me, and eventually surrendered to the fact that it wasn’t going away on its own. My doctor recognized it within seconds and in her classy, calm tone she said it was a sebaceous cyst. She told me we all have cysts (who knew!?) and usually they resolve themselves. On occasion they don’t, and even though mine was just beneath the skin and not cancerous, it was infected and inflamed.
She recommended surgery.
Four days later, I laid on my belly while a handsome surgeon (come on, I gotta admit, that part was fun) injected my back with lidocaine and cut a hole the size of a nickel in my back to remove the abscess.
Though lancing the skin to remove a cyst is far less intrusive than brain surgery, I still felt nervous.
Surgery is always risky.
Being present to my own mortality, my heart opened up with a humble smile of reverence to welcome the gifts my wound gave me. Pain is a gift in disguise, and I wanted to start ‘making Love to fear’ right away, in part because I knew my healing would be swifter if I did.
What are the top three gifts this wound gave me?
Humility and gratitude came first — for the fact that I have easy access to a clean, safe and friendly medical facility.
This is no small thing.
Many people on Earth do not have this. While my back was sliced open, I thought of the children in Gaza sitting beside their dead parents in shock. I wished I had a magic wand to give them the loving care I was receiving.
Body awe came next.
(Heads up, there’s a photo below of the open wound. I find it pretty darn majestic; you might feel otherwise. Either way, I’m giving you notice so you can move ahead with your own eyes’ consent.)
Already entranced by the mind boggling masterpiece called the human body, I spent the next few days in awe of my body’s resilience.
Every day, she regenerated skin tissue like a magician.
All I had to do was… nothing, really… and she kept working to heal 24-7. My open wound, stuffed with antibacterial tape and covered with a bandage, served as a reminder for committed self care that is simply but all too societally uncommon: Drink plenty of water, eat good foods that don’t further inflame her, rest will, soak in the sun’s superpowered Vitamin D and give thanks — my body and I are sharing one precious breath together, after the next.
I’ll close with this duo: Surrender & Interdependence.
Having an open wound on my back that needs to be treated with mindful, hygienic attention meant I would need to surrender to asking for help.
Vulnerability invites us to surrender. We are not alone.
For the first six days after surgery, my wound was treated by a close friend who used to work in the ER and was visiting from out of state. All good. When he left, though, who would I ask? Who would be OK looking at a raw red hole dug into my body? If I had to go to a friend’s house for them to bandage it, how would I keep my wound clean after showering… at their house? It seemed complicated.
Then I realized, Wait a minute…
Village.
Given the horrific pain I’ve been through in Life (massive brain tumor & severe sciatica), I have zero problem asking for help. I became passionate about recreating ‘Village’ during postpartum depression in 2014 — where the members of our society step into our interdependence and take care of each other, like Love wants us to do.
So I asked a neighbor who works at a nearby medical clinic. Easy peasy, no travel needed, and the world has more Love in it — given and received — thanks to this generous little wound.
Pain is a gift in disguise, inviting us into more Love. I’ve lived it, I’ve witnessed it, and eventually I got the memo that I am here to love it.
What pain are you present to, that wants to be thanked by you today?
From my glass of electrolytes to yours~
Jess
Jessica Rios
Writer + Love Coach
Founder, Making Love to Fear + Leaning into Light
A piece I wrote called The Light of Death was just republished in one of my favorite magazines, The Braided Way.
Synchronistically, this happened on October 3rd, which is the birthday of one of my dearest friends (of 28 years!), and an ex of mine who turned super sour after our breakup (glad to say that was a first!) and a precious pal who would have turned 30 yet died on the 1st of July.
If you want to dose-up your fear of mortality with some lovin’ today, you can read it here. Being willing to acknowledge that our bodies will die brings us more alive. How cool is that?
