Scars.

I've been thinking about writing about my scars for a while now. I wasn't sure exactly how I wanted to go about it. But today I was inspired by a fellow Lymie, who posted pictures of her scar on Facebook, to go ahead and do it. 

If you don't know the story of my scars, I'll fill you in a little bit.

I have had two ports in the last three years. The first one was put in on May 15th 2012, three days after I graduated college. It was on my left side. I had it for almost a year before it stopped working. The tube shifted in my chest and got kinked under my collar bone. After a couple of procedures to try and fix it from the outside, (including one which left me with bruised hand prints on my chest from them trying to move it back into place. Not cute.) I had it removed and another one placed in the right side of my chest in the same surgery. That was April of 2013. In April of 2014, I had that one removed because I was at the point where my body couldn't take anymore antibiotics. So that was the end of my port journey. But not the end of my scars. 

I have a very serious love/hate relationship with my scars. They're huge. They're puffy. They misshapen. They're uneven. 

But they're a physical reminder of the fact that I'm making it. I'm stronger than what tried to bring me down. Sure, I'm still sick. Very sick, most of the time. But those scars represent three years that I survived. Three years that may have ended differently if it weren't for the doctor who finally helped me get the diagnosis I needed to get that treatment that caused those scars. 

So yes, sometimes I get stared at in public. And by sometimes, I mean always. Whenever I go out with my scars showing, I get weird looks. I hear whispers. And words that aren't really whispers when people think they are. People are rude. Stares are ugly. But, I have come a long long way in realizing that my scars aren't. 

So, I'm doing it. I'm posting this picture. Without anything else to distract from them. No hair that takes over the picture. No outfit that makes you look at it instead of my scars. No face to look at instead. Just my scars. Right out there for you like they are for me every day. 

It may not be a big deal for you. They may just look like weirdly colored spots on my chest. But it's a big deal to me. They're always going to be there. They're always going to be a part of me. And one day I will not even think about them anymore. And this is a step towards that day.