Your Help is Hurting

It’s not like I didn’t know.  In my head I knew that I could get hurt.  I even warned others about the danger.  But that day, all this wonderful head knowledge sunk down with slicing pain into my toe. So I left off the pressure washing unfinished.  A bleeding toe put an end to it. 

The next day, the bleeding toe turned into an infected toe that required antibiotic treatment. Then I learned that a swollen, twice-enlarged toe is an open invitation for further traumatization. 

I tried to take it easy.  I wasn’t mowing or weed-wacking or using a chain-saw or anything like that.  I just puttered around the house and yard, shuffling my feet because I couldn't simply sit still. 

Then, there was a collision with the rusted leg of a rod iron patio chair.

Immediately after that, a run-in into a door jamb.

Later that day, I tripped over it with my other foot (?!), lost balance and bumped into my son who in turn stepped on it as he was trying to avoid stepping on it.

Avoiding added injury became the hardest part of the healing process. 

Of course, I can’t expect inanimate objects to get out of my way to keep me from injuring myself further.  Nor do I want people in my life to feel like they have to walk on eggshells in fear that something they innocently do may cause aggravated retraumatization.

Day in, day out, however, I could watch  the amazing work of regeneration unfolding before my very eyes, my injured toe  healing from the inside out.  

I couldn’t will it.  

I couldn’t ‘just make it happen’.  

But, I learned that I can assist (mainly by staying out of the way) or hinder (by trying to be useful!) this miraculous process even though I am powerless to effect it.