When I was 19 and in the Army, I had my appendix removed. I ended up with a 7-inch vertical incision about two inches to the right of my belly button and starting a couple of inches above that. Turned out, my appendix was not in the usual spot. Instead it was attached length-wise on the small intestine and my intestine got compromised.
But I didn’t know that, lying there in that hospital ward. All I knew was that I was in a lot of pain. In 1979, you had to have a shot for any pain relief, and I am beyond scared of needles. So I lay there with an NG tube up my nose (which was also really unpleasant, and made me puke—not what you want to do with a long abdominal incision like mine) and hurt.
If I remember correctly, the medic changed the bandages on probably the second full day I was in the hospital. That was the first time I saw the incision, how long and ugly it was. I cried, really cried, over how ugly it looked. I was crushed that I was going to have such a big, ugly scar.
And it was an ugly scar. It looked like a thick red crooked worm on my stomach for the longest time. I think it finally faded in my late 20s, but it’s still thick and crooked 30 years later (wow, I just realized it was 30 years ago pretty much right now).
I went on to have another six major abdominal surgeries; most were on the same site as my c-section with the exception of the five holes punched in for the laparoscopic surgery I had in 2006. With that one, I joked that I now had the Big Dipper on my belly.
So my belly isn’t pretty. My muscles are strong, I’ve worked the snot out of my abs mostly because otherwise I thought my guts might end up on the floor. But my belly isn’t so attractive.
Then in 2017, I had that melanoma removed on my back. I was self-conscious about that scar too, especially at my older son’s wedding in March 2018. My new daughter-in-law has also had melanoma, and she showed me her scars and told me the dress she actually found for me was gorgeous and I should wear it. She was right, and I did wear it.
This past Saturday night, I wore a different dress to the Juvenile Diabetes Dream Gala, and that same scar is visible in the dress. I don’t care though. It’s a mark of survival.
I hope that I can have that attitude with however my body looks after today.
But I didn’t know that, lying there in that hospital ward. All I knew was that I was in a lot of pain. In 1979, you had to have a shot for any pain relief, and I am beyond scared of needles. So I lay there with an NG tube up my nose (which was also really unpleasant, and made me puke—not what you want to do with a long abdominal incision like mine) and hurt.
 |
| At Jordan and Amanda's wedding You can't really see the scar here |
And it was an ugly scar. It looked like a thick red crooked worm on my stomach for the longest time. I think it finally faded in my late 20s, but it’s still thick and crooked 30 years later (wow, I just realized it was 30 years ago pretty much right now).
I went on to have another six major abdominal surgeries; most were on the same site as my c-section with the exception of the five holes punched in for the laparoscopic surgery I had in 2006. With that one, I joked that I now had the Big Dipper on my belly.
So my belly isn’t pretty. My muscles are strong, I’ve worked the snot out of my abs mostly because otherwise I thought my guts might end up on the floor. But my belly isn’t so attractive.
Then in 2017, I had that melanoma removed on my back. I was self-conscious about that scar too, especially at my older son’s wedding in March 2018. My new daughter-in-law has also had melanoma, and she showed me her scars and told me the dress she actually found for me was gorgeous and I should wear it. She was right, and I did wear it.
This past Saturday night, I wore a different dress to the Juvenile Diabetes Dream Gala, and that same scar is visible in the dress. I don’t care though. It’s a mark of survival.
I hope that I can have that attitude with however my body looks after today.
2 comments:
You can. I still laugh when I think about the first bike wreck I had that caused me to need stitches in my knee. My mother said with dismay "you'll never have pretty knees!" Truer words were never spoken. But hey, I can still walk.
I still think scars look cool. I never outgrew that.
Post a Comment