Marks of a Survivor

My scars. There is beauty from it, but most scars tell a story. There are these inevitable scars that I cannot hide from a time when something inside was trying to hurt me. It is an odd thought, and when I think of cancer, I often think how strange it is to have our own body do this to us. My scar, the scar that has been with me since I was 8 years old, is about 12 inches long on the side of my left leg. I always notice it more in the summertime, or when I am on my way to vacation. I had such a fun time at TSA to indicate this scar that has been living with me for over 23 years. When I look at these scars, I often remember how I felt ashamed to wear shorts, skirts, and even bathing suits for a really long time. I do not know if it was because I was middle school age, but I felt that it was a strange conversation to start with and it would prompt more questions than answers that I had as a 12 year old. I do remember that when I was able to hide my scars, I felt better about myself. I knew that people would not see it. But I realized that despite hiding the physical scars, the emotional ones are still there. 

I realized the more time I spent at my survivorship clinic, I would develop chest pains and discomfort in breathing. As a teenager who has dealt with cancer, I felt panic and fear. I realized with the onsite survivorship psychologist that it was called a panic attack. This scar, for whatever reason, I cannot hide, or make it disappear. I learned that after a while of hiding my leg scar, I had to be honest about what those scars are. It meant that I went through something, that I was trying to survive, and that it is okay that I was scared then, and at times that I am still scared now. My scars tell me that I am here, and I am not going anywhere so far. It’s tough skin, it can bleed, and it can hurt, but I am trying to heal. Those scars taught me more about resilience than any self help book I’ve read or anything I could learn about in class. Those scars helped me see that the pain I felt is tangible, real, and left a mark. What I went through changed me. Those scars have left something for others to see, but very few that can understand. Those scars taught me that life is delicate, transcendental, and beautiful. That scar is a reminder that I want to continue to experience all the strange, beautiful moments in between. Those scars taught me that there is suffering and hurt in this world, but it reminds me that there are certain parts that can heal from it, and to continue on that journey of healing, whatever it may look like in the future.

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