Thursday, 11 September 2025
At 01:30 am, I was shuffling my way to the toilet, when I suddenly realized something was wrong: my inner thigh had swollen into this soft, hand-sized lump. Not firm like muscle, but squishy like water under the skin. Exactly like what I saw when I first came home from the hospital.
Naturally, the one I asked for help was... guess who? Doctor GPT. Because really, who wants to text their real doctor at almost 2 am in the morning? The answer popped up instantly: most likely caused by a massage that was too strong.
And bingo!
Just the day before at 10 a.m., I had endured the world’s most painful massage. Imagine lying there, promising yourself you’d breathe through it calmly, only to end up screaming and lifting your leg because it hurt so much. I had told the therapist to go easy on me. But apparently, “gentle” was translated into “press as if kneading bread dough.”
That same day, I had actually shortened my massage package from 15 days to 7. My excuse was “too many events next week,” but truthfully? My body had been begging me to stop. The spa owner kindly offered to replace the therapist, but I pity her. She was a nice woman, just with the wrong technique. Still, after seeing my swollen thigh, I had no choice but to cancel the whole package.
The next morning, the spa owner even visited me at home. She apologized, checked the swelling, and suggested I wear loose clothes and take off my binder and girdle (which I had already ditched the night before). To my surprise, when she gently massaged me using lymphatic techniques, it didn’t hurt at all!
So the issue wasn’t my body being weak. It was the earlier massage being completely wrong for my condition. Not long after, my real doctor finally replied. His verdict? “Yes, that swelling is from the massage. Don’t do anything to it. Don’t massage it again.” Simple as that. And suddenly, the lesson became clear.
The Bigger Problem: Rushing Healing
Looking back, I realize I had jumped into this massage package only three weeks after a major surgery (appendix removal and hysterectomy). I had read and heard somewhere that light massage could help with recovery, so I thought, why not? But I conveniently skipped over the details, like how most experts recommend waiting at least six to eight weeks before starting body treatments.
The mistake wasn’t only in trusting the wrong technique; it was in my impatience. I wanted to rush the healing process. I wanted to feel “back to normal” as quickly as possible, ignoring the fact that my body had just undergone major trauma.
Recovery timelines are not random. Doctors often remind patients that while you might look fine on the outside, the deeper layers of tissue can take months to fully regain their strength. Abdominal surgery, for example, usually needs six to eight weeks just for the outer tissues to stabilize, and up to six months for the deeper ones. No amount of willing yourself to heal faster will change biology.
I also later learned that swelling like mine is pretty common if you push recovery too early. Some medical associations estimate that about three out of ten patients develop post-surgical swelling or fluid buildup when they overdo it or skip precautions. And massage, if done too aggressively or too soon, can make it worse, not better.
Interestingly, massage itself isn’t the villain. Done properly by someone trained in post-surgical care, gentle lymphatic drainage can reduce swelling significantly. Some studies even suggest it can speed up recovery by almost half. But timing and technique are everything. In my case, both were off.
Why We Rush Ourselves
But why do we rush?
There’s this strange expectation that healing should be quick, almost instant. Maybe it’s the culture of productivity, or the endless social media posts showing people bouncing back after surgery like they just came from a spa vacation. We forget that behind the curated photos, there’s probably a lot of resting, crying, and waiting.
Psychologists even have a name for it: recovery impatience. Our brains crave the old sense of normalcy, and when we don’t get it fast enough, we try to hack the process. But just like microwaving a slow-cooked stew, rushing recovery only ruins it.
What I Learned (the Painful Way)
So here’s what I’m taking away from this midnight scare:
A major surgery is major for a reason. Don’t minimize it. Healing takes time, no matter how tough you think you are.
Don’t outsource your intuition. If your body says “stop,” listen. No guilt required.
Experts exist for a reason. A professional therapist trained in post-surgical care is different from your everyday spa masseuse. Technique matters.
Patience really is medicine. Rest is not laziness. Stillness is not weakness.
The Solution: Choosing Slow Healing
The practical solution is simple: don’t rush. Follow medical guidelines, ask the right experts, and let your body set the timeline. The deeper solution, though, is to learn the art of patience.
Because patience is not passive. It’s active trust. It’s believing that healing is happening, even when you can’t see it. It’s allowing yourself to be in the in-between state without forcing yourself out too soon.
For me, it also meant forgiving myself for wanting to rush. Because that’s the other thing about INFJs: we want to keep moving, keep doing, keep serving. Slowing down feels unnatural. But ironically, in slowing down, we’re actually giving ourselves the strength to keep going longer.
A Gentle Reminder
If you’re in a season of recovery (whether from surgery, heartbreak, burnout, or disappointment) please don’t rush yourself. Don’t compare your timeline with others. Don’t punish your body or soul for not being “ready” yet.
The Japanese have a word, ma, which means the space between things, the pause that gives rhythm to life. Healing is that ma. A pause before the next movement.
So today, I’m choosing to embrace the pause. To wear loose clothes, sip warm roiboos tea with collagen peptides, and remind myself that the body knows how to heal, if only I stop interfering.
And maybe you need that reminder too.
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