Moments After I BLEW My Fingers OFF

April 7, 2025

More than 24 hours after my surgery, I found myself awakening to a sensation I wouldn’t wish on anyone. It was pain, excruciating and acute, a mix of sharp, cutting, and burning, yet somehow it was dull too.

At first, I thought the agony was restricted to my hand, but soon realized it was radiating throughout my entire armIt was a revelation I discovered as I adjusted myself: the pain was so pervasive that it felt as though my entire body was suffering.

The intensity was such that it seemed to travel beyond the confines of physical space, dwelling everywhere and nowhere.

In that moment of overwhelming pain, my instinct was simple: cry.

Let out the pain, release the tears. Yet, as quickly as that thought arose, my father’s words echoed in my mind, words that were ingrained into my being:

“Men never cry.”

Even after enduring ten surgeries and countless painful, traumatic experiences, this pain was on another level. It was uncharted territory, and despite my father’s credo, I couldn’t hold back any longer.

Finally, I let go.

Completely broke down, and it felt like a transformational breakthrough. In surrendering, I went deep into the vortex of pain, traveling through my heart, up my arm, and to the fiery furnace that was my hand.

I couldn’t see it, my hand was buried beneath a mountain of gauze and plaster, but I felt every inch of the burn.

For how long I dived into this abyss, I’m unsure, be it seconds, minutes, or hours—but at some point, a miracle occurred: the pain, so fierce and enveloping, vanished. I was free, an unexpected liberation from the throes of agony.

At the tender age of nine, without understanding the physiology at play, this moment seemed miraculous. Embracing the pain fully had caused it to dissipate.

It felt like a secret about existence had been revealed, one that came with an understanding of life’s ephemeral moments. Every moment transforms into the past in an instant, and in the present, pain has no permanence.

Only peace, love, and light truly exist in the present moment. By allowing myself to fully experience and own the pain, it relinquished its hold on me.

This discovery unveiled a profound truth: everyone has access to this inner space of serenity and love.

In the essence of who we truly are, we find everything we could ever need. We are whole, complete, and enough.

This realization emerged from the act of letting go, allowing oneself to be enveloped in that eternal space of freedom. It’s an experience available to anyone, anytime.

While I was absorbed in this state of pain-free trance, I heard my father’s voice. Having not seen him for months, it initially felt surreal, I even thought it might be the morphine playing tricks with my mind. But sure enough, it was him.

Jumping out of bed, I found him outside my hospital room. His journey was a testament to his love: he had commandeered a military helicopter, covering over 3,500 kilometers without a shred of authorization, just to be there for me.

My father was a remarkable character, a man of action and unexpected gestures. During the weeks that followed my surgery, as I recovered in the hospital, he became a part of my healing journey in unique and unforgettable ways.

I’ll be sharing more of these stories in future posts, each with its own lessons and joys.

Thank you to everyone for watching my video and now joining me in this written reflection. I deeply appreciate your support through comments, shares, and subscriptions.

Your engagement is invaluable, enabling me to reach more people and hopefully make a difference.