When I was nineteen, I broke my wrist at a church camp. It was the middle of winter in California, and the camp was in the Sierras, so there was plenty of snow and ice on the ground. I was dutifully walking out of the chapel, Bible in my right hand, when I slipped and fell on a patch of ice, the full force of my fall landing on my left wrist. It was a gruesome break.
It took an hour to get to the small hospital at the bottom of the mountain, an hour waiting for the doctor on call to show up, an eternity to get the bone set, and another hour back. It was the middle of the night, and being heavily sedated, I slept the whole way. When I woke up, I was in a great deal of pain, and the painkillers they gave me barely touched it.
That was only the beginning of the ordeal with my wrist. It never set right, and the doctor recommended surgery to get it straightened out. My parents were going through divorce then, and somehow my broken wrist was not a priority. Okay, I was not a priority. So I suffered with the pain of the wrist for months before it finally healed in a malformed way. To this day I have bouts of pain with that wrist, where bumps appear and it hurts just to write or type. This isn’t the typical weather-related pain you feel with a broken bone. I get that, too. This is much more severe, and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ve been to enough orthopedic surgeons to know that.
Yet I’m grateful, in a way, for this deformity. It has taught me patience and how to push through everyday activities while in pain without complaining. If I’m at work, I do get quiet, and co-workers will sometimes comment on that. I’m honest with them, and I’ll show them the bumps, and that’s usually enough information. They understand. They have their own pain.
It’s also caused me to reflect on how difficult my parent’s divorce was on the whole family. We were fractured, each of us living his or her own life, without much regard for what was happening with the others. I was as guilty of that as the next person. Over the years I’ve reconciled myself to that reality, and it’s given me the freedom to rebuild the relationships that I lost during that time.
The pain in our lives can leave us broken or help make us whole. At least, get us a little closer to whole. I struggle with some of the pain in my life (I’ve written about this before) and I’m still waiting to see how it will help me. But eventually, I’ll make sure it does.
Image Credits: https://stock.adobe.com/3D person falling ©Anatoly Maslennikov–stock.adobe.com; Pine trees © Mimi Art Smile–stock.adobe.com.
My World With Words 
Belinda–I am so sorry about the pain. Both the physical pain and the emotional pain.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. Both can be difficult.
LikeLike
You do a great job writing about how instructive pain can be. Sorry about the break and break-up but I admire your resolve to turn them into something good.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you.
LikeLike
Belinda, enjoyed this post. It takes courage to be vulnerable. I have experienced a broken wrist before. However, though truly painful, not as painful as yours. I experienced my broken wrist in my forties. I will tell you that resetting the bone was more painful than the actual break, and that was after the doctor gave me a shot for the pain. I was grateful that it was my left wrist and not my right as I am right-handed. So much we learn as we endure physical pain. Thanks for sharing.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. I, too, am grateful it was my left wrist, and I continue to be grateful for that. I appreciate your comments and always look forward to hearing from you.
LikeLike
It must have been an excruciating physical pain coupled with the emotional and mental side of things. Truly like your words depict, what doesn’t kill us, hopefully makes us stronger in the long run.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. It was a difficult time. But I’m better now physically, mentally, and spiritually. I can’t complain about lessons learned!
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s funny how our childhoods leave us with these physical and emotional scars that we have to contend with to be whole.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It is, isn’t it? I suppose if I’d had a better childhood, I might not be where I am today. I mean that in a good way.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I know what you mean 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
Heart breaking story Belinda. I can’t imagine how painful that must have been. But you finish with such a powerful message. “The pain in our lives can leave us broken or help make us whole.” I believe it’s our pain that gives us the deepest kind of meaning in life. Thank you for sharing 🙏
LikeLiked by 1 person
I believe the same thing. Thank you for your comment.
LikeLiked by 1 person