Scars

I'm in a funk. It's OK to be in a funk and I'm hoping this one passes quickly. I try to be honest when I write my blog because I value honesty. You should do as you say and say as you do. Something like that. So, this funk, it started when I realized that although I'm healing I'm never going to be normal. I have this really ugly nasty scar on my arm where the tumor was removed twice.

Here's another shot of the back of my arm

I can't take good self portraits of the back of my shoulder and I can't ask my husband. I think he would say no. If I were him, I would say no too. Thinking about my scar and the physical damage doesn't do me any good. None-the-less, I find myself thinking about scars today.

The arm scar doesn't bother me too much. It's not really purple anymore and unless you are looking for it, you wouldn't notice it. I'm good at hiding it with clothing. However, I still don't have mobility in my arm. I can't take off clothes over my head and I can't do things that require arm strength. The emotional scar is much harder. Often I feel disabled. I'm glad none of my friends or family ever treats me that way.

I hate the scar from the port where all the chemicals have gone in. I feel like a pin cushion. See the area  to the right of the scar? Those are all the needle marks from accessing my port. Maybe you can't see them but I can see every one.

 Again, it's mostly covered by clothing so no one really notices. I notice. I notice when I shower and when I'm getting dressed. I notice that the right side of my body, that my veins are more purple and pushed to the surface. They look this way because my body has been busy pushing chemicals through me.

I'm annoyed with the scars. I just want to be normal again. I desperately want to be normal.