Writing is like being able to put life into a snow globe. It takes the things that are too big and scary and reduces them into a form that I can put away when I want and look at from a distance. It also takes all that’s good in life and captures it into something I can take out when I want and look at close up and keep forever. It makes the bad things into something I can hold…and the good things into something I can hold onto. Both help so much that I need that little souvenir of life.

Thursday, April 11, 2013

The Fault, Dear Brutus, is Not in Our Scars



I was recently at a singles’ function, and a man I know was talking about surgery. He commented that women shouldn’t ever have surgery because “it scars them.” I just stared at this man, as I frequently find myself doing, wondering if it’s worthwhile to say what I’m thinking. I always decide it would be pointless. More and more with some people I find myself thinking you just have to appreciate the good in them and ignore the idiotic unless it’s clobbering you over the head, which idiocy is wont to do. This particular man can be nice in ways, even though he was at this point showing a disturbing lack of concern for the health, comfort and well-being of slightly over half the population, because apparently women are purely decorative objects who have no value if we are marred.

 Shortly after this conversation, I learned that I have melanoma, a highly metastatic cancer which I will be writing about more in the future only because The Big C has a way of sort of steamrolling all over everything else in your life. So I apologize in advance. People always ask the size, and this was so tiny, it’s hard to find something to compare it to. You know in birdseed, there’s always a ton of that little tan seed that seems to be in there only for flinging purposes? No animal actually seems to eat it. In fact, as a former hamster owner, I’ve noticed it’s in hamster food, too, and hamsters fling it with just as much disgust and hostility as birds do, if distance is an indicator. I just looked it up: millet. It was roughly the size of a grain of millet.

Mine was thought to be a stage one, which means no radiation or chemotherapy, but they do remove a chunk of flesh that will leave a sizable scar. In fact, I just got home from surgery and am simultaneously administering writing and chocolate therapy. I haven’t seen the actual scar yet, but I think it’s two or three inches long, though some of that is because of the way they have to cut a circular incision for stitching purposes—as an ellipsis.

I am such a dork that I actually took a picture of my pre-surgery legs because suddenly they were more beautiful than they’ve ever been. Oh, they were never anything to look at really. I’ve never had those thoroughbred legs that some women have. In fact, they tend to bring to my mind uncooked poultry, especially chicken wings—you know, the chunky, rounded ends. But this is just up from my ankle, so there will be no hiding the scar, and this makes me ache to wear dresses the way I ached to wear a belt in the advanced stages of pregnancy even though I rarely wear dresses these days because the shoes are uncomfortable. I nonetheless dressed up my library-paste-colored legs, biopsy and all, in an old pair of red heels that I can hardly walk in anymore. I wonder—would picturing other body parts severely scarred improve those as well? Maybe. Maybe I will employ this technique and become gorgeous.

The truth, of course, is that I’m already plenty scarred as it is—we all are. That’s life, and living is serious business. It’s not always pretty; that’s why some of us seek out the arts. Maybe I’m only trying to comfort myself, but I don't think so. Even before the steamroller hit, I've found myself gravitating more and more to people with the most battle scars. I like to think the best part of us is our scars. They show that we’ve survived.

And I intend to do that.
Alice: From the moment I fell down that rabbit hole I’ve been told what I must do and who I must be. I’ve been shrunk, stretched, scratched, and stuffed into a teapot. I’ve been accused of being Alice and not being Alice, but this is MY dream. I’ll decide where it goes from here.
Dog: If you diverge from the path—
Alice: I make the path!   
~2010 Alice in Wonderland

20 comments:

  1. Oooh, is this upcoming Wednesday a WWWP night? If so, I'll bring you some medicine--some chocolate.

    You're right about the scars. They show we've survived. And sometimes a physical scar makes us more alluring...more interesting to look at.

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    1. If that's true about the scars, I must be super alluring! And on WWWP night, I know you'll bring laughter, which really is the best medicine. But chocolate's good, too....

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  2. I'd have shot that man, if I'd been there, and if I believed in guns.
    I'm SO glad they found anything that small, and that they removed it.
    I have so many scars I can't count them, and not just from surgeries: from accidents, and clumsiness, and cats. Besides which, I have a body covered in spots of every size and shape imaginable. Freckles, moles, and now liver spots.
    I was just thinking about you (because you commented on my genetic memory story) and I was thinking what a pretty face you have, and I love the color of your hair. Now I'm thinking how happy I am they moved that birdseed spot.
    Whew.
    K

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  3. One of my co-workers just went through that same procedure. Her spot was right below her eye, making for a removal that required an ocular surgeon. No fun at all. I'm a basal cell grower myself, and have had at least 3 of those suckers carved out of my face.
    Glad you got this little bump-in-the-road taken care of. I'm sure all will be well.

    Pat
    Critter Alley

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    1. I know I'm lucky mine wasn't much worse, but eye? All the best to your co-worker. And to you. Basal cell runs in my family, so I know those aren't a picnic, either. Thanks for making me feel better.

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  4. A fair-haired colleague had one of those carved off the side of her nose. She sported a white gauze bandage for a while. Now I don't even notice which side of her nose was excised. Unfortunately, she can no longer reply, "That's no skin off my nose." Poor thing.

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    1. Wow, your friend must have had an amazing plastic surgeon! I was given that option, but it involved a graft and thus more wounds. But I can say I've had a leg up all weekend.

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  5. I will assume that your surgery went well and I'm sure those legs of yours will be even more beautiful! Let me know if there's anything I can do.

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  6. Hey Tammy,
    Hope you are being good to yourself and resting! Wish I could pop out and bring you some goodies and wine! I guess I will just have to send some! Need to visit one day soon! Too bad Tim and Michael Graduate the same weekend! Would have loved to attend! Again, will just have to send goodies to him too! If I'm not mistaken, think cash is king on that one! You take care of yourself my dear friend! xoxo holly

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    1. Holly, I wish you could pop out and drink some wine with me! Now that would be therapy. Also wish we could pop out there for Michael's (or Lauren's) graduation. Meant to tell you I have the sweetest note here from Michael. It means so much!

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  7. Oh, Tammy. I am so sorry that this is happening to you. I am glad that they got it all, and that you won't have to have those other treatments that can make you sick or in pain for awhile. I'm praying for you and am sending you lots of love, my friend.

    Also, that guy was dumb to say what he did ... how old was he anyway? Didn't his Mom or Grandma every have surgery that helped to prolong their lives? Did his ex ever have to have a Cesarian to give him his kid? What a silly line of reasoning. His mind will be changed on that opinion someday, even if he eventually marries a young beauty ... what about plastic surgery, breast implants or fixing a broken nose?

    (I'm just trying to make you laugh ...if he brings that up again, you tell him that your friend in Oregon thinks that he is awfully superficial.)

    Love you, and get well soon!

    Kathy M.

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  8. Kathy, you did make me laugh. You also warmed my heart. Again. You are a gem!

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  9. Tammy,
    First of all, so glad to hear the procedure went well, that you won't need additional treatments, and that you are employing the most important part of recovery: the eating of chocolate : )
    Secondly, WHO is this man? I always ask of these people.. WHO raised you? Did you not a mother have? I do have to assume this idiot is single, because who would marry this man? I have had two surgeries, and quite a long scar that runs from the top of my bum up to my lower back from a Spinal Fusion back in 2001. The scar has faded, as has the pain, of course, but without that scar I would not be strong enough today to work out, to keep up with my kids, to, well, to anything...! My daughter also faces several surgeries in her near future and I pray that no idiot says these things to her. Scars are like coffee table books or interesting artwork - they give us something to talk about, they add to our life's history, and they make us strong - in body and mind.
    Looking forward to sharing chocolate with you on Wednesday!

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  10. Lol, Beth - you were one of those women with thoroughbred legs I was thinking of! Which goes to show we all have our scars, just maybe in different places. Along with her scars, your daughter will receive the gift of not attracting men like that. Not a bad deal.

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  11. You're right. That C word alters one's perspective in a way few things can, and I say that from the outside looking in. I've been touched by it multiple times in my life through loved ones, and it is a scary thing. I'm so sorry you're going through this; glad it appears to have been caught early so you can avoid the chemical onslaught. You're approaching it as you seem to approach all things - with humor and wisdom. These will hold you in good stead, and for those of us traveling the journey with you from the safety of our laptops, please know that positive thoughts and a whole lot of love are coming your way.

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    1. Lisa, your kind and gracious words mean so much. Thank you!

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  12. Tammy, I had no idea! I'm so sorry to hear about the cancer and the surgery and that you had to hear such ridiculous, sexist comments! You're sweet and beautiful inside and out in every way...and you always will be! I also love your company, and if you ever have any free time afterwards... Meanwhile, good thought prayers, virtual hugs, and all the love and peace in the world for you, girl! Jeffry

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  13. Jeffry, I've had this little spot for years and have asked FIVE doctors about it - one of them only months ago - but once you finally get someone to pay attention, it sure moves fast. Anyway, thanks for the kind words! Hugs back!

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