Counting My Scars

A couple of young family members were having discussions about scars they have that are longer than one inch long, it got me to thinking about mine.  Four of mine are a result of surgeries, two were accidents and I have one of unknown origin.  Who cares???

This got me to thinking about our hidden scars, those that have changed us forever, like losing someone special, and no one see those scars.  Would I want everyone to see my hidden scars, I think yes.  This might give me an opportunity to talk about how I got that scar and how it’s healing with time or not so much  yet.

Some of my real scars don’t get seen, the one on the bottom of my foot that is so old I forget which foot and who even wants to see it.  I only look for it occasionally.  It was summertime and I was outside playing in the spray from the fire hydrant on the corner and stepped on a broken bottle.  My childhood friend who lived across the street spent much of that summer coloring in books together because I could not get around.  It brings back more good memories of time spent with Carol than anything else.

One surgical scar, from my lumpectomy, reminds me of a very difficult time in my life and how fragile life is.  This scar got bigger than it should have been because a few of the stitches pulled out before they should have come out and in my mind this scar became huge.  My universe at that time was in a total state of chaos and sadness that may never heal.  I still cry about some of those events almost 20 years later.

One of my hidden scars occurred a little before this and I thought my profound loss would never go away. I am often surprised that time has certainly healed that wound and today I know I can survive almost anything.

My moral to this story is just be as kind as you possibly can to everyone out there.  We never know if there is something they are fighting or grieving or missing and kindness is so much easier to deal with.