Many have asked if I am worried about scarring.
Am I worried about people being able to see the lump on my chest where Jeri sits?
The answer is simple. No.
I have a number of scars on my body. I don't try and hide them. It never occurred to me that I should. I don't see them as a cause for concern. I don't see them as something that I should think of with shame or embarrassment.
They tell me tales of my life. And speak of gifts big and small.
The stretch marks on my stomach told me of the gift of two beautiful boys.
The scar on my right breast told me I would be given the gift of attending way too many school concerts.
The scar on my left breast told me I would have the gift of spending many late nights making birthday cakes.
The scar on my stomach told me that I would be given the gift of seeing my kids grow up.
The scar on my thigh told me that I would have the gift of more years with my husband.
The scar on my ankle told me that I would have the gift of spending more Sunday's having family roasts.
The scar under my left breast told me of the gift that my intuition was right.
This new scar tells me of the gift that I will wake up tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.
It tells me of the gift that I will be able to sit on my couch and argue about what we'll watch on TV tonight. That I will be able to yell at my kids for not cleaning their rooms. That I will do a bazillion loads of laundry. That the cleaning of many toilet bowls are in my future. That I will be able to argue with my husband over stupid little things. That I will be able to both snuggle with my dogs and yell at them for chewing up yet another remote. That I will be able to embarrass my kids with hugs in public and stories from their childhood. That I will be able to hug them and spend time with them. That I can hold my husbands hand this night and the next and the next.
This new scar gives me time.
Time that suddenly became more pressing.
Time that suddenly became more pressing.
It gives me hope.
Hope I'd lost.
It gives me possibilities.
Possibilities I'd started to forget.
It is a gift.
A gift I never imagined.
There is no shame or embarrassment associated with with this scar. Or any of the others I wear.
I will celebrate it and yell my joy from the rooftops. This scar is a gift, not a burden. It is beautiful. And I will wear it with my head held high and a smile on my face.
Thanks Anon :)Delete
I want to pierce mine some days and hang fairies from them, lol! And this dang spot on my nose that will NOT close up no matter how much love I show it (no folks it's not cancer, honest) just stands as yet another "mark" of how lucky I am. Let them show, um yes please and thank you! Two Thumbs up lady! Take care of yourself and time will do the rest. (And Jeri)ReplyDelete
Thanks Anastasia. I figure I can look at them as a mark of worry, pain and illness, or I can see that they gave me answers and peace of mind. xxDelete
Scars are just that - memories. Triumphs. Battles WON, because we walked away with just another scar. :)ReplyDelete
I agree whole heartedly :)Delete
Beautifully written. May have shed a happy tear or two for you and all the wonderful moments Jeri will help bring to you and your family. Cheers.ReplyDelete
Thanks Anon. Jeri wont cure my Dysautonomia but she will allow me to live more of life and for that I am very very grateful. xxDelete
I agree with ANONYMOUS "beautifully written" - as usual. So glad you are doing well.ReplyDelete
Thanks Judy xxDelete
Right back at ya, babe :)Delete
Wow. Wow. You are an amazing woman with an amazing spirit! I'm popping in from Weekend Rewind, and are absolutely blown away with what you have had to deal with. So freaking proud of you, and I don't even know you - yet. xReplyDelete
Thanks for stopping by Kym. I think I've done the tears and the worry, and now, especially after this pacemaker, I can see them for the gift they are :)Delete
What a beautiful post. Every scar tells a story and you have told us many.ReplyDelete
Thanks Allison. They do tell stories. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, but if you're still standing to examine them, then for me that one goes in the win column.Delete
Lovely Post! And now that I've read some of your others about "Bob" I'm even more in awe of how well you've dealt with everything. Wear those scars proud.
Thanks Mel and thanks for taking the time to read a little more about Bob. It's not a well known, ore well treated, disorder so I appreciate anyone taking the time to learn a little more. xxDelete
When each scar tells such a tale, how can you not look at them with affection and love? Our bodies are tapestries of our lives, only perfect envelopes for such a brief moment before our first fall as a child.ReplyDelete
Your tapestry is rich and wonderful.
I agree. Wether it's a wrinkle or a scar it is the tale of our lives. And if we're lucky enough to still be here to tell the tale then that's something to celebrate xxDelete
Your story and your attitude are an inspiration, Michelle. xReplyDelete
Gorgeous post. I love scars too. They are reminders of where you have been and usually, great strength and perservance. The only scars I struggle to come to terms with are those inflicted by others in violence. But scars from life, surgery, or whatever - they tell a story. Be proud of them. (And you know what, even the others are signs of survival and strength. I guess it's just coming to terms with the memories that is hard).ReplyDelete