“Keloids are firm, rubbery lesions or shiny, fibrous nodules, and can vary from pink to flesh-colored or red to dark brown in color. A keloid scar is benign, non-contagious, and sometimes accompanied by severe itchiness and pain, and changes in texture. In severe cases, it can affect movement of skin.”
This is not pretty. “Firm, rubbery lesions.” Yuck. “Fibrous nodules.” What? “Pink, red, dark brown.” Ugh. My endocrinologist described her own personal keloid scar as “an earthworm attached to the skin of her abdomen.” Delightful.
The upside? “Non-contagious”. You can freely associate with me without the threat of an earthworm attaching itself to your abdomen or (in my case) neck. J
I told my head-neck surgeon that I tend to develop keloid scars. (No, this is not the first of these beauties I have sported in my lifetime.) He told me before surgery that he has never (in several decades of practice) had even one of his patients form this type of scar after a neck dissection (my second surgery). I just had to be special, didn’t I?
So, my cancer surgeries left a scar. A keloid. It indeed does itch regularly… and sting… and affect the movement of my skin. And it’s in a fairly obvious location.
Let’s take a better look.
So there is my “firm, rubbery lesion”. My own personal earthworm.
There is a part of me that wishes that the incision site was healing into a polite, thin, unnoticeable, white line on my neck (like it is supposed to). It would certainly be less gruesome.
But there is another (and much bigger) part of me that is strangely grateful. This last year has been uglier, in many ways, than any grisly keloid scar.
I have been deeply injured by it.
I have sobbed through it.
I have been unalterably changed by it.
And…
I have survived it.
I have been made stronger by it.
I have experienced a Living God in it.
I have been transformed by it.
And guess what! I have been given the beautiful gift of an external and physical symbol of an internal and deeply personal alteration. And this scar is here to stay. My keloids never completely go away. This one will lose its’ color with the years and will eventually flatten and widen. It will never completely go away. And I kind of like that. A permanent reminder of this very significant year.
Writing this has reminded me of the song “Scars” sung by Farrell and Farrell way back in the early 80s. (Some of you old folks will actually remember this…)
See those scars
Precious scars
Proof of battles He brought you thru
Learn to love those old scars
For the strength they bring to you
Reminders that wounds
Are a part of His plan for you
Reminders that healing
Is a part of His plan for you.
Well. Beautiful scars. Beautiful firm, rubbery lesions. Who knew, right??
As usual, you make me giggle. I love your scar too. It reminds me what God has brought you through and of your incredible bravery. And I LOVE that you don't hide it. That's just like you. You're amazing and I can't believe I get to be friends with you.
ReplyDeleteYou make me look at scars in a whole new way my friend. Thanks. God is always good. Always.
ReplyDeleteThis scar gives you street cred like no other. Wear it proudly. You survived cancer, girl.
ReplyDelete