Stoicism and Injury

Preface

Early May of 2025, I was the recipient of a very unfortunate injury. A container of a very flammable liquid was knocked over and splashed on me in the presence of an open flame. I received 2^nd and 3^rd degree burns to 18% of my body, primarily my right side and arm, requiring skin grafts on approximately 1/3^rd of my right arm and a month-long stay in a hospital bed. Since being released from hospital, some things have healed up well, while others have not. For instance, some portions of my arm have healed with great difficulty and have gotten infected on three separate occasions. At the time of writing this, I still have a fair deal of physical therapy to go through to regain the ability to bend my elbow to the degree that is normal, and a perfect outcome is not guaranteed (although it is likely).

However, the purpose of this essay is not to garner sympathy for the pain and suffering I have been through, nor is it to outline the physical challenges of recovery faced by burn victims. This is an essay exploring how Stoic principles can be applied to circumstances of great pain, uncertainty, and fear.

I am far from a Stoic sage, and I had many moments of despair, anger, and fear throughout my recovery, and later in this essay I will outline how I dealt with these moments of weakness and moved on from them in greater detail. I did however find that Stoic principles and practices have been greatly beneficial to me; they pulled me out of some dark mental states and helped me to deal with and overcome significant pain and setbacks in my recovery process. It is my hope that in writing this, others who are experiencing the struggles that come with serious physical injury can find something useful in it and find it helpful to apply these same principles to their own recovery journey.

Uncertainty

A lot of things were unclear for the first few days of my stay in the hospital. Having little knowledge of severe burns, when I first arrived at the hospital, I assumed I would be spending a few days there at most, and that I might have to take a week off work. The doctors and nurses quickly set me straight on that, but even they had few concrete answers for me. Burns are something that take a while to get to their worst point, to “declare themselves” as the hospital staff put it. It was a wait and see game of a couple weeks before they could even determine with any certainty whether I would need skin grafts or not.

Naturally this level of uncertainty, combined with an inability to do much more that lay around and think about it, can become quite stressful. But this is also the point when Stoic principles really started to help. The ancient Stoics taught that change is a constant, that no matter what, we can always count on circumstances continuing to evolve. Marcus Aurelius very wisely wrote that “Loss is nothing else but change, and change pleases universal nature” (Aurelius 2021, p. 216). Now I certainly was having a great deal of trouble seeing anything pleasing about the situation at the time, and I certainly felt I had a lot to lose, including the normal function of my right arm and my ability to ever return to my career. Marcus put it a bit differently when he wrote: “Something happens to you. Good. It was meant for you by nature, woven into the pattern from the beginning” (Aurelius, Hays 2003 p. 43). Framed that way, I began to see things differently. I found comfort in this concept, that this whole situation was just a piece of the puzzle, the great unfolding of events proscribed by providence. That line of thinking allowed me to see meaning in what had happened to me, and that proved to be crucial in the early stages when I was struggling to make sense of the situation.

Fault

Ultimately, the accident can be attributed to a poor judgement call made by another person. At this point the impulse to lay the blame at the feet of another for the suffering I was experiencing crept in, the urge to get angry. Once again, I turned to Stoicism, and instead of falling prey to those vengeful passions I chose to forgive. He had simply made a mistake, and he deserved to be treated with kindness, not receive a response of anger and blame. So I reached out to him to tell him that I harboured no ill-will against him. I feel that was the right way to treat a friend who had only made a mistake, and I suspect the ancient Stoics would have agreed with me on that.

Marcus Aurelius hit the nail on the head when he stated “To obstruct each other is unnatural. To feel anger at someone, to turn your back on him: these are obstructions.” (Aurelius, 2003 p. 17). If I had chosen to get angry and to blame, to become outraged and demand that he is punished for his mistake, I would have been working against the very Nature that we Stoic aspirants ought to be working towards. I would have been acting contrary to Nature, and I would have only been causing more suffering at a time when the focus should be on healing for everyone involved. I will once again turn to Marcus, as he illustrated the sense of unity that we should strive towards perfectly when he wrote “We were born to work together like feet, hands, and eyes, like the two rows of teeth, upper and lower” (Aurelius, 2003 p. 17).

To further illustrate this point, we will turn to Epictetus. In regard to how one may react to a perceived wrongdoing by another, he states “Everything has two handles, the one by which it may be borne, the other by which it may not.” (Epictetus, 2004, p. 18). By this he means that we always have two choices in how we respond to the actions of others, either negatively or positively. Choosing to respond negatively is choosing to pick the jug up by the broken, sharp and jagged handle instead of by the smooth one. Musonius Rufus goes further to say that “Plotting how to bite back someone who bites and to return evil against the one who first did evil is characteristic of a beast, not a man.” (Rufus, 2011, p. 51). This quote is taken from a lecture on whether or not one should file suit against someone who has deliberately assaulted them, but I do feel that it is quite applicable in this situation, as it would be unjust to bite back at someone who has injured you unintentionally as well, much more so in fact.

Pain

Severe pain is a hallmark of serious burns; in fact, they are famous for it! My experience has certainly been no exception, and from the realities of literally being on fire right up to the ache in my right arm as I type this essay, pain has been present to some degree in most of my waking moments. 

The ancient Stoics talked a lot about physical pain. Pain is a universal experience, so it only makes sense that a philosophy of life would include a fair deal of advice on the topic. My perspective on the matter was shifted significantly when I first read what Seneca wrote to Lucilius in his twenty fourth letter on ethics. In response to pain, he said: “If I can bear you, you are slight; if I cannot, you are short.” (Seneca, 2015 p. 88) The truth of this statement really struck me, as the only time pain is truly unbearable is when it is killing us, otherwise it is something that we can and inevitably will end up getting through. I certainly am not saying that pain is something insignificant, and as I am no sage I certainly struggled with it a great deal at times, but reframing the pain as something that I am capable of enduring despite everything else helped a great deal.

Marcus Aurelius too had a lot to say about pain. As someone who struggled with debilitating illnesses for much of his life, we can assume that he was quite familiar with pain. I have no doubt that he spoke from a place of experience when he wrote “Either pain affects the body (which is the body’s problem) or it affects the soul. But the soul can choose not to be affected, preserving its own serenity, its own tranquility.” (Aurelius, 2003 p. 106). Although it is very difficult to see in the moment, we do have the power to choose our attitude towards pain. We can either dread it and pity ourselves for having to go through it, or we can approach it calmly and endure it with some degree of tranquility.

Death

When I reflect on the injury, what stands out the most is just how lucky I am. I am lucky that the burns weren’t deeper than they were, I am lucky that only my right arm, side, and lower legs were burnt, I’m lucky that I will most likely make a full recovery and be able to return to my career in the construction industry. And of course, I’m lucky that I didn’t die, the thought certainly crossed my mind that I might. 

The ancient Stoics dedicated a lot of their writings to the topic of death, and studying philosophy has even been referred to as a way we may rehearse for our inevitable deaths. Their focus on it makes a great deal of sense, indeed what more common fear is there in the human experience than the fear of death?  The Stoics recognized that it was impossible to achieve a good flow in life if we are constantly dreading the inevitable end of it and suggested that in death we are simply returning to the same state of being as we existed before we were born. Seneca summed up this idea, and the foolishness of fearing death, when he wrote to Lucilius: “Wouldn’t you say a person was quite stupid if he thought a lamp was worse off after it was extinguished than before it was lighted? We too are extinguished; we too are lighted. Between times there is something that we feel; on either side is complete lack of concern” (Seneca, 2015 p. 156). 

The way things played out, I wasn’t in any serious danger of losing my life. I had quick access to medical attention, and the local hospital was equipped to treat my injuries and provide ongoing care. However, if it wasn’t for the quick thinking and actions of the man who sprayed me with a fire extinguisher, the injuries I would have sustained very well may have been life threatening, or even fatal. This possibility has served as a stark reminder of my own mortality.

Frustration

The healing process from burns is a long one, much longer than I had originally expected. There were plenty of times in which it seemed that the healing progress had reversed, times of incessant itchiness that would result in blisters if scratched, plenty of expectations dashed and unpleasant surprises. There were certainly times I felt overwhelmed and gave in to the feelings of frustration, which I will cover more thoroughly in a later portion of this essay, but I also found a great deal of inspiration to overcome these challenges in the teachings of the ancient Stoics. As Marcus points out in this rather grim observation: “Have you ever seen a severed hand or foot, or a decapitated head, just laying somewhere far away from the body it belonged to? That’s what we do to ourselves- or try to- when we rebel against what happens to us.” (Aurelius, 2003 p. 107). Despite the rather depressing nature of the example given, I find those words from Marcus to be a very powerful reminder. In getting frustrated with the way things have been going in my recovery, I am trying to separate myself from the experience that fate has ordained for me, the workings of fate being just as much a part of me as the afflicted arm itself. 

It has also been tough not to blame myself for setbacks in my recovery, thinking that if only I had done this or that differently, or avoided such and such action, then perhaps it would be healing quicker. This line of thinking is made even worse by the uncertainty of how the setbacks will affect the overall outcome, which can be particularly troubling when considering that it could impact the mobility of my arm for the rest of my life. However, this sort of speculation is pointless, as no amount of wishing things to be different is actually going to change the current circumstances. Additionally, when engaging in these “what ifs”, I’m ignoring the fact that I really have no idea what the overall outcome is going to be, and odds are, it is likely not going to be nearly as bad as I seem to fear. This tendency for people to blow things out of proportion and expect the worst is responded to beautifully by Seneca, in fact I have a simpler version of this quote on a sign above my toilet so that it is one of the first things I see every morning, it is just such a valuable reminder! He wrote: “Some things, then, torment us more than they should, some sooner than they should; and some torment us that should not do so at all: either we add to our pain, or we make it up, or we get ahead of it.” (Seneca, 2015 p. 52-53)

Failure

Along this journey of recovering from my injuries, Stoic principles have helped me immensely. They have uncovered courage and fortitude I didn’t know that I was capable of, provided a path to patience that I was unaware I could muster, and led me to be kind and forgiving to all the people who have been involved, both in the accident and the ongoing care. However, there have been moments in which I have fallen far short of these Stoic ideals and gotten caught up in anger, self-pity, and despair. In the face of these failures and the ensuing regrets, I’ve had to remind myself that I am only human, and certainly no Sage.  

In the works of Seneca and Marcus Aurelius, we see a multitude of admissions of their own failures, and I feel that those of us facing significant obstacles can find inspiration in that. If these great Stoics that we look to for advice on how to live our lives failed in their own practices at times, then perhaps we should be forgiving of ourselves when we fail to live up to our own ideals as well. But we must be careful that an attitude of forgiveness towards ourselves does not lead to an attitude of moral complacency of course, and we should keep Marcus’s reminder to himself in mind: “Be tolerant with others and strict with yourself.” (Aurelius, 2003 p. 64). There is no sense in beating ourselves up over our missteps, but we should always strive to not repeat them in the future. In the words of Chris Fisher, former scholarch of The College of Stoic Philosophers, “progress not perfection.”

Conclusion

It is my hope that some who have read this essay have found something of value in it. I feel that the best thing that could come from my experience is that it may inspire others who are experiencing similar circumstances to my own. It is impossible for me to know exactly what sort of mental state I would currently be in if I didn’t have the works of the ancient Stoics and the modern scholars to draw inspiration from, but I am quite certain I would be handling things in a much less dignified manner. In a sense, I have come to view what I have experienced as a blessing. It has given me the opportunity to really put what I have learned studying Stoicism to the test, and although I won’t compare my experience to that of James Stockdale, famous for having spend years in a Vietnamese POW camp, I have in some small way found myself “entering the world of Epictetus”.

Without challenges, we have no way of improving ourselves, virtue requires resistance in order to flourish, and it’s the moments of hardship that ultimately define our character. In a quote that Seneca attributes to Demetrius: “No man seems to me more unhappy than one who has never met with adversity, for such a man has never had an opportunity to test himself” (Seneca, 2017 p. 9). With philosophy as my guide, I do believe that I will come out of this experience better for it, just as I believe that anyone who applies the teachings of the ancient philosophers to their own personal hardships will find themselves much improved through the process. 

I will sum this all up with a quote that, although I have been familiar with it for quite some time, has become much more relevant (and ironic) than I had ever expected. In the timeless words of Lucius Seneca: “Fire tests gold, misfortune brave men”. (Seneca, 2017 p. 24)