Saturday, 28 April 2012

The First Time I.. #HAWMC

On reading the prompt for today's post, the first thing that sprung to mind was the very first time I looked at my scar after my Crohn's surgery.
Now don't worry if you are squeamish, this is not going to descend into CSI style discussions on the gruesome side of surgery. Put down the sick bowl.
I used to be squeamish. Getting diagnosed with Crohn's changed all that. I suddenly had to be more aware of my own body and things being poked and prodded into it. (Stop giggling at the back there).
This moment sticks in my mind for me as it was a massive realisation of just how much my life was about to change. For one, that part of my body was now unrecognisable as my own - I had, and would always have, a great big scar down my tum for the rest of my life.
But the main, and most amazing thing - I would no longer be in excruciating and unbearable pain, every minute of the day. This, was incredible.
After my surgery obviously I was heavily sedated and when awake was on a morphine drip to ease the pain. I remember the nurse telling me they would be coming back soon to sit me up and I laughed in her face and said "No, no, I'm fine here thanks. Forever". I was soon ordered up anyway and quickly and painfully learned to move around again while my scarred insides began to heal too. Sneezing, coughing, breathing, generally anything that required movement of any kind was VERY difficult for the next few weeks.
When my staples were taken out I got to see myself as I would be now for the first time. Scary. I was pretty disgusted with my self for a while to be honest, although I acted as though this was all a breeze. I was overjoyed to be relatively pain-free but the thought of literally being scarred for life was still a shocker.
I know I am incredibly lucky to have ended up with only a scar at the end of my surgery, but that didn't stop me looking away when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror for a good few months. I didn't like the way it looked, like it shouldn't be there, like it wasn't my skin, all discoloured and the way it felt to touch. I felt down that I couldn't muster the confidence to proudly show of my battle scar.
Now, over a year later I've accepted it's a part of me that's going nowhere. It's still a wee bit if a surprise at times when I catch sight of it, but not a repulsed surprise now. Just more of an 'oh well'.
It's here and here to stay. Just like me, and I know if that scar wasn't there I wouldn't be either. So in that respect, it's beautiful x

This post was written as part of WEGO health #HAWMC

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