“So” I said. “I’m planning to come home on public transportation on Friday. That will be fine, won’t it?”
There was a pause on the other end of the phone. I was speaking with Vanessa from the surgeon’s office. She was giving me instructions for the minor out-patient surgery I was having – specifically an incision to remove tissue from my right thigh.
She responded carefully. “I think it would be better to have someone pick you up. You don’t want anyone to jostle the wound.”
Okay then. I was underestimating this surgery; minimizing the impact perhaps.
Since that conversation I’ve used the phrase several times; in telling my family that my husband would pick me up, in talking to my sister-in-law, in relaying the conversation to a friend.
The phrase has made its home – because these are wise words.
“Don’t jostle the wound!” Fresh wounds need care and rest, they need us to pay attention, listen to instructions, care for them as prescribed. Fresh wounds of the body and the heart and soul.
How often when my heart feels wounded have I longed to cry “Please! Don’t jostle my wound!” Or how often have I wanted others to cry out for me “Don’t jostle her wound – care for her, love her, nourish her.”
And the wound will heal but often we need that advice, the warning, the encouragement not to jostle the wound. For no matter how we play at being fine, there are times when we are the walking wounded. We are fragile and finite, holding hearts and souls easily wounded, easily bruised.
And so sometimes we need others to say “Don’t jostle the wound! Make sure you don’t jostle the wound!”
Today is the first day I’ve stepped out of the house without a bandage on my wound. My hand goes protectively toward my thigh as I wait for the bus, continues to guard it as I step onto the subway. I’m now able to care for myself – I don’t need protection. But I still don’t want anyone to jostle the wound.