I met my scar. It was an accidental viewing. I had avoided looking at it all this time. Saturday after being admitted to the hospital again (I was released Sunday), I had been allowed a shower and as I stepped out, there was the mirror. At first, I didn’t really realize what I was seeing. Then I sort of startled back, “no, I don’t want to see that.” But it was too late. I already had. It was like when someone you know pops out unexpectedly from around the corner. “Ahhhhhh, stranger danger!” Then “Oh, it’s just you.”
I was talking to my Friendapist about it. She asked me how I felt about seeing it for the first time. I told her it wasn’t all that bad. I told her it would be visible with a V neck, so I would need to get more turtlenecks, learn to tie a decent scarf, or just decide not to care. She said, “it is good to have options.”
Recently, I had seen the play To Kill A Mockingbird, and meeting my scar reminded me of when Scout meets Boo Radley for the first time. Throughout the play, references are made to Boo Radley as being someone to fear. Then, during one of the final scenes, he walks out of the shadows and he is not scary at all. He’s an ordinary but awkward introvert that people never took the time to understand. The whole thing is anti-climatic. Then, we realize Boo saved Scout’s life, and he becomes an appreciated wonder. Oh, he’s not going to be out there on display, as he still makes people uncomfortable when they see him. For the most part, he will likely continue to hide behind the curtains of his house. But the mystery is gone and, to Scout, he is a life saver. I guess that is a good way to see my scar.
The other thing about my scar; it is not completely straight. My OCD sister-from-another-mister, R, would probably lose her mind if this were her scar. Looking straight down through the breasts and across the sternum, it does not line up with my belly button; but is off just about a half inch. I would show it to you, but I am trying to grow my readership.
I had a brief visit at the ER this morning. Pain in my left jaw, arm, and chest woke me up. I’m not really a candidate for a heart attack – my arteries are clean – but those three pains are classic symptoms of heart attack. I thought about whether I wanted to be the girl who cries wolf or the girl who gets eaten by the wolf, and I chose the former. At the ER I was immediately hooked up to an EKG machine. The technician asked when I had my surgery. I told her September 25. She said, “Well, your scar just looks beautiful.” I said “Damn, Gina,” because her name was actually Gina, “you have an odd idea of beautiful. I’ll bet your house is covered in really creepy Halloween decorations.”
The tests checked out and all my numbers are fine – better than last Friday – so I came home. I took a shower and washed my hair. I decided to blow my hair dry and maybe fix it a little. I had gotten a new hair cut last week, nothing young or trendy, but something more like someone my age who had not given completely up might wear. I haven’t truly fixed my hair since before the surgery.- clean was about as good as I could get. Then I thought, what about a little bit of make-up. I haven’t worn make-up since before the surgery, either. I mean, the only person I really see is Charles, right? He doesn’t need me to wear make-up or fix my hair. Charles is the person who keeps my world spinning. He is the person who makes me WANT my world to spin. So, putting on a clean shirt and fixing my hair is the least I can do, I think.
Plus, it made ME feel better. I even put on a little lipstick.
I pulled on a royal blue sweatshirt (royal blue is my signature color), and it brightened me right up. I was pleased to realize that the scar does not show over the crew neck.
It is good to have options.