The Life Cycle of a Scar

As I mentioned earlier, I have a scar on my arm.  It's not pretty.  But it's better than it was.

I remember seeing that scar the first day I took the bandage off my arm, 8 days post-op.  All the steri-strips had fallen off, and all that was left was a very exposed, very raw scar.  I couldn't cover it with long sleeves; it was painful to touch, to try to cover, so I pretty much stayed inside the house, content to be alone with my wound while it healed.

Within a few weeks, I could tell it was getting better, but still it was red and raw.  At least it was no longer painful to the touch, so I could put on a long sleeve shirt and go outside into the world.

As more time passed, I was still acutely aware of the scar, and at times, others were aware of it as well. But for the most part,  I no longer thought about it all the time.  Every now and then, I'd bump it, and it would hurt, and I would remember it was there.

It's still there.  Not yet healed, but not so raw.  Just . . . well . . . there.

I am assured by the folks that know these things, that someday my scar will be a tiny little line, a small reminder that I once had something bad happen to me.

I think that's the way of scars.  And the usefulness of them.  They are a small reminder that something bad once happened to us.  And that we survived.

All that to say, I guess I'll learn to love this scar I am presently carrying.  You know the one I mean.