I believe I am more than my scars…and so does everyone else, mainly because they don’t know my scars exist. The still pink, puckered railroad tracks that crisscross my torso where my breasts used to be…glorified in raised relief. They see me every day all dressed up with nowhere to go and think, I am sure, She looks fine…They may catch a hint of my tattoo which owns “I am more than my scars”… but all in all, they don’t really know who I am, what I have been through, what I feel… and who could blame them. I hide it every day, behind clothes and a smile that says I am right as rain.
I am in moderate pain all of the time, nothing too debilitating. Just interfering with some activities, like getting up off the couch or doing more than walking at the gym… but not getting dressed, taking a shower or feeding myself. I am a patchwork quilt that still functions.
In the fall of 2016, almost exactly 4 years ago, I was just beginning my chemotherapy treatment for Breast Cancer. I was determined to get through this phase of my cancer journey. Although, everything in my being was against chemotherapy. All I could think of was how the nurses would be shooting poison into my veins. Especially after I read that the Germans introduced chemotherapy for chemical warfare during World War I!! But my doctors and family were convinced it was the best thing for me. I was scared to death of it! I was so anxious about the infusions, I actually had to do hypnotherapy and stress reducing electrotherapy stimulation during each of my treatments to even sit in the chair. My Hypnotherapist would say “just imagine the chemotherapy as little Pac Mans moving through your body, gobbling up all the cancer cells.” Then she would place the little silver clips on my ears and turn the machine up just enough to start vibrating, but not too much or it would zap me!