“From suffering have arisen the strongest spirits; the most profound characters bear the marks of struggle.” ~Khalil Gibran
I was born with spina bifida. At the age of ten, physicians informed me that I might never walk again following a surgery that would alter my life forever.
I don’t recall every detail they communicated, but the feeling stands out: the atmosphere changing in the room, adults speaking cautiously, the silence that followed.
Paralysis was a potential outcome.
By then, my body was already well-acquainted with hospital ceilings. I had undergone several surgeries before I truly grasped what surgery entailed. By the time I reached adulthood, that count would rise to thirteen.
I was born with VACTERL syndrome. I had surgery to remove a kidney and another to fix my bladder. I also had open heart surgery and multiple bowel surgeries, including receiving a colostomy bag and subsequent repairs.
But at the age of ten, I understood only one thing: my body felt precarious.
Four days later, I managed to stand. I was in the hospital, alone in a frigid room. All I could feel was pain. I pressed the pain relief button and propped myself up. I swung my legs to the side of the bed and pushed off with my arms.
Not because I felt strong. Not because I was fearless. But because something deep within me refused to accept that prognosis as definite.
My legs shook. My stability faltered. Yet, I stood. I felt nothing, and the next moment, I tumbled to the floor. This occurred three consecutive days.
On the third day, the nurse entered and found me standing; she said, “I’m calling for physical therapy. You are going to walk again.” As she lifted me from the floor, I gazed at a wheelchair that no longer loomed darkly.
And that marked the start of my journey with resilience.
Basketball transformed from just a sport to a dialogue with my body. Each dribble felt like validation. Every sprint felt like rebellion. The court disregarded medical histories; it merely responded to effort.
Through consistent practice and determination, I nurtured strength where fear had once resided. I went on to compete in high school and later in college, not because my body was free from struggle, but because it adapted.
Then, life challenged me once more.
As a young adult, after twelve surgeries, scar tissue led to yet another complication. Due to issues and the loss of six pints of blood, I entered a coma.
When I regained consciousness, walking was no longer instinctive. Muscles that once reacted swiftly felt distant. I had to relearn how to balance and restore my strength.
Again.
There’s something humbling about teaching your body to move twice within one life.
It dismantles ego and cultivates patience.
I experienced moments of frustration. Moments of anger. Moments when I wished for an easier journey. I compared myself to others whose medical histories didn’t follow them everywhere.
But a shift occurred within me during recovery.
I surrendered. I was exhausted. I was worn out from hospital rooms and medications. A friend motivated me to pursue healthier eating, leading me to discover herbalism, along with holistic practices, yoga, rebounding, and chiropractic care.
I ceased asking, “Why is my body like this?” and began pondering, “What is my body teaching me?”
It revealed that strength is not overt. It’s steady.
It’s attending physical therapy when progress is slow.
It’s repeating minor movements until they feel second nature again.
It’s trusting your body even in discomfort.
It taught me that healing is seldom dramatic. It’s often monotonous. It’s a multitude of small choices to persist.
Thirteen surgeries could have defined me.
Instead, they became my training ground.
I realized that the body is not delicate simply because it bears scars. Scars are signs of healing. They are evidence that something was wounded and restored.
My body has been opened, stitched, sedated, and evaluated more times than I can recall. It has been scrutinized and doubted.
And yet, it keeps moving.
I hold no resentment towards its limitations. I honor its resilience.
It has outlasted immobility.
It has endured unconsciousness.
It has weathered uncertainty.
And it continuously chooses life.
I once thought resilience meant enduring through pain at any cost. Now I see it means listening. It means cooperating with your body instead of battling against it.
My body has instilled discipline in me. It has nurtured faith. It has shown me that rebuilding is possible, even when it involves starting anew.
Twice.
If you find yourself in a season where your body seems more like a liability than a gift, I hope you practice patience. I hope you view your scars, whether they are visible or not, as proof of survival rather than frailty.
Sometimes the miracle isn’t in avoiding difficulties.
Sometimes the miracle is in adapting.
And sometimes, the quietest strength is simply rising once more.
About Jewel Jones
Jewel Jones is an herbalist, educator, and the founder of Alkaline Academy, committed to aiding others in healing through plant-based nutrition and holistic techniques. Drawing from personal experiences of overcoming significant health challenges, she instructs individuals on how to reconnect with their bodies and reclaim their wellness naturally. Her work merges traditional herbal knowledge, spiritual understanding, and practical lifestyle changes to empower communities, especially those underserved, to take charge of their health.
**Lessons Learned from 13 Surgeries and a Coma: Insights from My Body’s Journey**
Life can take unforeseen paths, and for some, the experience of illness and recovery becomes a significant instructor. Following 13 surgeries and a coma, I emerged with invaluable lessons regarding resilience, the human spirit, and the significance of support systems. Here are the insights I gleaned from my body’s journey.
**1. The Power of Resilience**
One of the paramount insights was the sheer power of resilience. Each surgery posed its own challenges, both physically and emotionally. I learned that the human body possesses an extraordinary ability to heal and adapt. The journey revealed that setbacks often serve as stepping stones to recovery and that perseverance is essential. Embracing a resilient mindset helped me navigate the darkest periods.
**2. The Importance of Mindfulness**
During my recovery, I discovered the significance of mindfulness. The coma experience stripped away distractions, compelling me to confront my thoughts and emotions. Engaging in mindfulness practices like meditation and deep breathing became key tools for managing pain and anxiety. This approach not only aided my recovery but also enhanced my outlook on life.
**3. The Role of Support Systems**
Navigating the complexities of numerous surgeries emphasized the critical importance of support systems. Family, friends, and healthcare professionals became my sources of strength. Their encouragement and presence provided solace during the most trying times. I learned that seeking help is not a sign of weakness; it’s an integral part of the healing journey.
**4. The Value of Communication**
Effective communication with my medical team proved essential. I learned to advocate for myself, posing questions and voicing concerns regarding my treatment. This experience highlighted the importance of being an active participant in one’s healthcare journey. Open communication fosters trust and ensures patients receive optimal care.
**5. Embracing Vulnerability**
Experiencing multiple surgeries forced me to confront my vulnerabilities. I came to understand that it’s acceptable to feel afraid, uncertain, or weak. Embracing vulnerability enabled me to connect more deeply with others and realize that everyone faces their challenges. This connection nurtured empathy and kindness, both towards myself and others.
**6. Finding Purpose in Pain**
Pain became a constant companion throughout my journey, but I learned to derive purpose from it. Each painful episode brought me closer to understanding my limits and strengths. I discovered that pain can be a potent teacher, prompting reflection and growth. This shift in perspective transformed my relationship with suffering.
**7. The Importance of Self-Care**
Recovery taught me the necessity of self-care. Prioritizing my physical and mental health became essential. I learned to heed my body’s needs and limitations. Integrating practices such as nutrition, exercise, and adequate rest into my routine became vital for my overall well-being.
**8. Gratitude for Life’s Simple Moments**
After such a turbulent journey, I cultivated a deep appreciation for life’s simple pleasures. Whether savoring a meal, spending time with loved ones, or simply feeling the warmth of the sun, I learned to treasure these moments. Gratitude evolved into a daily practice, reminding me of the beauty in the mundane.
**9. The Impact of Mental Health**
The emotional impact of my experiences was substantial. I learned that mental health is equally as important as physical health. Seeking therapy and participating in support groups equipped me with coping mechanisms and a safe space to process my feelings. This journey highlighted the necessity of prioritizing mental well-being alongside physical recovery.
**10. Hope as a Driving Force**
Ultimately, I discovered that hope is an immensely powerful motivator. Throughout my surgeries and recovery, hope fueled my desire to heal. It became a guiding light during the darkest times, reminding me that brighter days awaited. Nurturing hope enabled me to visualize a future beyond my present challenges.
In conclusion, my journey through 13 surgeries and a coma has been transformative. The lessons learned extend beyond mere survival; they are about thriving amidst adversity. Each insight has shaped my understanding of life, resilience, and the interconnectedness of our experiences. As I continue on my path of healing, I carry these lessons with me, grateful for the journey that has formed me into who I am today.