What My Own Broken Ribs Taught Me About Receiving Care From Others

How my accident happened.

I broke 4 ribs, taking a traumatic frontward fall snowboarding a couple of winters ago. I caught a front edge, and my velocity threw me upon both fists, as my slowed tortoise like attempt to bring my arms up to brace for impact. At the moment of contact, the chest pain was something I have never known. My first thought is this must be what childbirth is like without an epidural.

How I got swept away while staying in place.

I immediately felt my spirit, my soul being transported away like a Star Trek episode, only my body was left behind to writhe in pain without screaming. My open mouth, unhinged into a silent scream. I was still tethered to this current physical pain of existence. I was juxtapose in darkness and light, floating away and being grounded down, I’m pretty sure there were stars, but not the celebrity type. So if this is what child birth is like, let me tell you what I gave birth to….surrender.

Where’s my support now?

My ribs are the cage holding my vital organs, protecting them. My ribs supported and protected my heart space. Now that safety was gone. My right ribs 9 and 10 displaced fractures, my left 8^th and 9^th ribs with complete costal chondral separation. My heart space became truly open, tender, vulnerable. Open to a new support . . . to those around me.

You see, being the family nurse means not only the long hours of caregiving AT work but also caregiving AWAY from work. In the present moment including my mother’s battle with Alzheimer’s, my brother being laid off and his break up with his girlfriend, my uncle with metastatic prostate cancer, my dog with lifelong aspergillosis, nurturing my relationship with my partner, supporting medical students through their journey and continuing my health and wellness coaching with clients. 

What is mouna and how is it important?

My mouna is caregiving to others. Now the universe placed me in a personal situation that would only allow me to receive care from others. Something I do not like doing since I have convinced myself that I am independent, self-sufficient.

My broken ribs forced me in my mouna, which is a vow of silence. The goal of mouna is for those who take a vow of silence do so, so when they return to speaking, every single word becomes more powerful. My mouna is caregiving to others. Now the universe placed me in a personal situation that would only allow me to receive care from others. Something I do not like doing since I have convinced myself that I am independent, self-sufficient. I surrendered to the support of others, my partner, my brother, even my mother offered to drive me to the hospital, of course, she has forgotten that the neurologist took away her driver’s license, even the Stanford students carrying and moving things for me.

There is ground support Major Tom.

As I lost the support of my ribs, I gained new structural support from my loved ones. I had foolishly believed I was the yarn that kept us together in a tightly woven blanket.  I suddenly became aware that they have now become the glue, gluing my ribs together to keep me safe. Not only physically, but also emotionally, spiritually in compassionate love. Now it has become clear, I have honored myself more, becoming more patient with the healing process, patient with my limits, allowing more gentleness for myself and acknowledging my non-efforts as efforts too. I’m exploring my spirit more with surrender and a tender openness now that has literally broken through my chest and soften into my real protection, my family, and my students.

What are your challenges?

What is your mouna? What can you take a break from that you do often? How can you find ways to soften into yourself, becoming aware of a hidden strength? Non-doing? Letting go? Willingness? Non-judging? I know when I return to my optimal level once again, I will be able to give care that will be profound, from a place of depth, from my true heart space, from a place that was broken because healing will emerge from the other side. This is my transcendence. Not being stuck in the mind of a victim of a traumatic fall riddled with many days of agony, but as the phoenix that has risen from the ashes with more brightly colored feathers from the love that was given to me by others. There is strength in being broken. My falling into surrender and acceptance of being able to receive love from others has opened me to receiving love as well as giving it.