Today is my scar’s 10th birthday.
Over the years I have come to really love scars – and mine
in particular. (Let’s face it, we have
been through A LOT together!) I love
scars for a couple of reasons for sure.
For one, scars have stories! Oft
untold, some unknown, but always more than just the mark they bear. For two, scars are the reminder of pain but
the presence of healing. It’s proof
where something was once broken and hurt, has now been made new. My scar isn’t “pretty” but the cells used to
create that flesh were brand new! Brand.
Freaking. New. Something broken turned
into something healed and whole. And
that will preach…
Everyone told me my scar would be “hardly noticeable” after
a year or two but 10 years later and we are still going strong! Which, honestly, I’m okay with. I did everything to reduce it early on. The scar cream and the lotions and protecting
it from the sun and hiding it… But now,
if I were to wake up without it one morning?
I think I would miss it. It is so
much a part of me… And it stands as this
incredible reminder. Life has changed a
lot but still it remains. Much like God’s
faithfulness…
Granted, it’s not quite the scar it once was! From a five inch long slight smile across my
neck that was bumpy and slightly grotesque to a nearly 7 ½ inch beauty (second
surgery) which was somewhat cosmetically better…to today! The end is just a faint pink line, but most
is still quite visible.
And so, 10 years later and I still get questions about my
scar! I think when you have a large scar
on your arm, people start assuming fun accidents involving ladders or chainsaws
or grizzly bears. When you have a large
scar across your neck, people don’t know what to think! As a result, my scar has garnered quite an
array of responses!
When I say array…I literally mean array! Think less of the color wheel and more of a
color spectrum… People’s reactions and responses have been numerous and often
hilarious. Good, bad, ugly, downright
confusing… You name it, I’ve probably heard it!
I decided the best celebration of my scar’s 10th
birthday was to chronicle some of those stories. In the words of another old, good friend –
Larry the Cucumber – “I laughed, I cried, they moved me, Bob!”
So, without further ado…
The Scar Chronicles
When I first came back to SAU after surgery, I didn’t really
know how to let people in on the dramatic life changes since we left for
Christmas break. Still covered in bloody gauze, I covered my neck with a
scarf. People heard my [nonexistent]
voice before they ever saw my neck. They
would always say “Are you sick?” And,
much to my elder sister’s displeasure I would say “Oh! Not really!” (I thought this was funny because I didn’t
have the head cold they expected… Faith did not.) When they did see my scar, they would gasp
‘what happened?!” “Umm, over break I
found out I had cancer and they took out my thyroid…” was just a little
awkward. For the same surprised reaction, however, I found I could tell a
better story. So, I started to say “Well,
an old lady came up to me in the Wal-Mart parking lot. Robbed me at knife point. Stole my Carmex!” Most looked shocked for
like a second, laughed, and then asked what really happened. While I felt the story softened the blow, I
had to stop telling it when the reactions I received included “But why did she
want your Carmex?!” and “Was that the Wal-Mart in Jackson? That is why I NEVER shop there! I only go to the Meijer. Way less dangerous!” People still talk about this story. Mostly me.
This probably should have deterred me from making up stories
but sometimes I still do occasionally for a laugh. One of my favorites is to tell young people
that I was born with my head on backwards, which of course was fine until I
wanted to learn how to drive. So, I had
to have a couple of surgeries to turn my head back around. “If you look closely,” I say while
demonstrating “my head still doesn’t sit totally straight. It kind of points to the left and I can’t get
it all the way to the right. So someday
they might have to fix that.” Most pause
and go “nuh-uh! That’s not true!” And I
tell them the real story. Last year I told
it to a kid in a class I subbed (instead of my normal spiel found somewhere
below). He tended to be a bit of a punk
and I wanted a reaction out of him. But
he just said “oh” and left. The next day I was in the class again and some
other student asked me about my scar. He
whipped around and went “You’re so stupid!
She told us about it yesterday.
She had to have her head turned around because she was born with it
backwards! DUH!” He body slammed a reading pillow while rolling
his eyes at his “ignorant” classmate. I
cleared it up with her. I have no idea
what he believes…
My first scar especially, curved up like a slight
smile. When people ask questions by
saying “what is that?” I like to respond with “It’s my second smile! See! I
smile even when I frown!” Then I
typically frown and trace my smiling scar.
The kids I work with get PUMPED about this. (I was once introduced to a
parent by an excited student saying, “see her second smile, mom!”) I can really
attribute it back to a friend from college, however. We worked together on a custodial team and he
said, “can I turn your scar into a smiley face?” “Why not!” I replied, expecting him to take the sharpie
in his hands to put two single dots for eyes.
When I realized the dot was becoming a full-fledged eye, it was too
late. What did I do? Leave it as a cyclops? Two full sharpie eyes and nose later and my
neck had a face! Which could only be
[mostly] removed with 100% acetone! The smile
(without the face) lives.
For whatever reason, when people see what appears to be a
slit throat, they assume the worst. I’ve
gotten many questions about suicide attempts.
My trigeminal nerve, carotid artery, and jugular all sit directly behind
my scar (cancer was “carved” off of all three).
If I was aiming with the scar I have, I don’t think I would have
missed. But it also isn’t the residual
scar from a rope burn from an attempted hanging. Guys, I promise I didn’t try to slit my
throat! Or hang myself! Or…anything in
that direction!
My scar is (or was), for whatever reason, a people
deterrent. Some have come clean about
it. Others I hear about through the
grape vine. My scar scares people
apparently?? It’s how I found out about
one of my favorite rumors!
My junior year I lived on a floor of mostly freshmen. I pretty much kept to myself (for reasons in
another story) but one girl seemed to avoid me like the plague. For a freshman who didn’t know me, I thought
this strange. But, remember, I was at a
pretty tame Christian Liberal Arts College.
We were eating a floor dinner once and I was talking to my RA about my
upcoming/recent surgery or something and freshie sat nearby, listening
nervously. At one point she released a
visible relief style sigh. I asked her
about it casually. It was then I found out
that, (though it wouldn’t surprise me if it somehow went back to my own mugging
at Wal-Mart story…), I found out I was in a gang! Or had been.
She had been avoiding me because she was afraid. Because someone told her I had been in a
gang. (This story is WAY funnier if you
know anything about me and my general persona in college or high school!). After her confession, the stories trickled in
from others. At least twice it was
reported I got my scar in a gang initiation.
A few times it was in a gang fight.
The most common report was, thank the Lord for redemption, I was in a gang, but I turned my life
around and wanted out and they slit my throat.
I’ve never been so hard core before or since!
Not related but part of the “deters people” family of
stories…years later I was working in Outdoor Education when I coworker reported
the humorous story of a kid who, after being scratched in Reptiles and
Amphibians class, declared he didn’t care because girls liked guys with
scars! We laughed collectively before I
(it is my fault, really, I don’t know why I said anything!) commented something
along the lines of “guys get more attractive with scars, but girls don’t, how
does that work??” And a male coworker replied, “It’s true! I think girls with scars are super
unattractive.” The table went
quiet. Another coworker went, “Dude,
Anika has a super noticeable scar…” To
which the first responded with “I know.”
I had long expected my scar was an “attraction deterrent”. While I had ZERO desire to attract any of my
male coworkers, it was the first time it had been voiced so clearly. Cheers!
Sometimes people get confused about anatomy…
I had a professor that I SUPER appreciated in college. He cared about his students in and outside of
the classroom and prayed and supported me through a lot that first semester
especially. He had this tendency the
first few weeks (up to a couple of months) I was back, however, to look at me
with these eyes. Eyes that spoke a pity
and an appreciation I didn’t feel I deserved – like maybe I was a living,
breathing miracle. I was in his office
middle of the semester, talking about life, and at one point he stopped
me. He said “Wait, when you talk about
your thyroid, you keep gesturing to your neck.
Where is the thyroid?” I explained
that it was a butterfly shaped organ that sits over the larynx, toward the base
of the neck and I watched a lightbulb go on.
He responded “You’ve always said thyroid, but I think I was thinking
hypothalamus. I thought they opened your
neck and went up from there into your brain…
That makes way more sense!” The
conversation moved on from there. In my
mind it was a simple mistake: he thought something first and it lodged. It happens!
Until I remembered what the hypothalamus does. No wonder he looked at me like I was a
miracle! Although, I did notice the
weird look seemed to stop…
The summer after my first surgery I was counseling at
camp. I, (as part of another no longer
remembered conversation), mentioned that I didn’t have a bellybutton (the
button was lost with my gallbladder surgery, just the indent-ish hole remains,
but saying you don’t have a bellybutton gets a fun response). The other responded with a quick but
otherwise serious “oh! Is that why you have that scar across your neck??” “No…?” And then I shared the story with my
friends and other counselors and we still laugh.
Last year I was subbing in a third-grade classroom. I had been in this room a few times as the
teacher was a friend of mine. Towards
the end of one day, a young gentleman came up to me and said, “Miss Kasper, did
you just have a baby?” I was suddenly
very self-conscious and confused. “No…”
I replied hesitantly, waiting for the explanation I knew was coming from this
particular young lad. I braced
myself. “Then why do you have that scar
across your neck?” I chuckled and told
him I would tell him tomorrow. The class
left, and I LAUGHED! At eight years old,
I’m glad he didn’t have all of the facts of life figured out yet, but I am
still concerned about how he thought babies were born…
Not quite anatomy but questions about my scar sometimes
warrant further concern. Like the young
girls who asked about my scar and when I gave them a brief synopsis one replied
with wide eyes and not enough laughter to be attempting a joke: “DID YOU DIE???” She seemed relieved when I told I did not and
was still, in fact, very much alive.
Most people don’t just come up and make comments about my
scar unless they are children. Which I
get. I am totally okay with people
asking about my scar and, in fact, I would rather they just ask then create
rumors about my shady past. But I also
realize that not everybody is, and I while I know the answer, they don’t! Others’ stories don’t include a quick
surgery. As a result, however, I am
surprised when adults do comment. Here
are some of my favorites:
- At a grocery store a late teen/early 20’s cashier decided to make small talk by asking “so what’s up with your neck?” I’m normally pretty vague (because I don’t always have the time or energy to deal emotionally or otherwise with people’s reactions to “cancer”) but perhaps my shock and his abruptness caused me to reply with a simple “Cancer. Surgery for nearly five hours.” It is the fastest I have ever seen someone ring up groceries (outside of Aldi – those people are like cheetas!) and he ended with a quick mumbled “have-a-nice-day-ma’am”. I felt bad for ruining his cheery mood. And also for laughing at him in the car…
- As a bonding/why not? activity, I went with my fellow female RA’s and RD boss to do water aerobics my senior year of college. Now, the water aerobics class was about 96% people over the age of 60. At one point, an elderly(er) gentleman came up to me in the pool. Pointed to my neck and said “I see you’ve got yourself a zipper! Me too! Wanna see?” I didn’t say yes but he moved the swim shorts (pulled up to his chest hair) down to his bellybutton to show me a scar that looked like his gallbladder had been taken out. I didn’t stick around for the story…
- I had one concerned stranger tell me in a one sentence lecture that my “neck tattoo” was the reason no one respected my generation.
- I had someone ask me to explain the meaning behind my confusing “neck tattoo”…
- I had a kid on a skateboard, however, tell me that my “neck tattoo” was “sick!” with a thumbs up of approval. Another teen once told me it was a “kickin’ tattoo!”
- (*Apparently tattoos are like their own section. Do people actually get tattoos to look like scars? Also, I once joked I would get it tattooed over. With ivy. Or barbed wire. If I wasn’t so attached to my scar as is, I think barbed wire would be sweet!)
- I have had random people (typically women in their 40’s and 50’s) tell me if they had such a hideous scar they would use some decent cover-up! Because there is nothing people like better than unsolicited advice from strangers!
My favorite reactions are the ones from kids! They have less of a filter and less
inhibition. Their natural curiosity
lends more quickly to a voiced question.
“Miss Anika, Miss Kasper, Anika…umm, teacher person…” (Depends on the
environment) “…what happened to your neck right here?” (as they draw an
imaginary line across their own necks…or mine).
I eventually will give them a short health and science lesson that
includes them feeling for their own thyroids and telling them some of the
important stuff it does and telling them mine “got sick” and had to be taken
out. Before that, however, I always ask
“Well, what do you think happened?”
First – it gives them a chance to think about why they asked and what
they actually want to know. Second – it
gives me a chance to figure out what people, even little people, think about
it. Third – it often results in funny,
occasionally well thought-out, answers… Including (but nowhere limited to)…
- You probably just had some sort of surgery or something…
- A dog attacked you! (I’ve also gotten cat, bear, and dinosaur)
- You were playing “Red Rover” but they caught you!
- You dropped your necklace into the fire and you picked up and put it back on when it was still hot and it burned you.
- You were at a rodeo and the cowboy threw the rope too far
- You were clothes-lined (this is also a common question of well-meaning adults)
- My mom said you shouldn’t play with knives...
- You were wearing a hoody and you jumped off the playground equipment, but your hood got caught and you just dangled there until someone helped you out of your sweatshirt. *shrug* It happened to my brother once…
I think this synopsis needs to end with the reality that
even though I love my scar… I wasn’t always okay with it. Even when I got past the “make it go away”
and found myself relatively attached to it, it also made kind of insecure. People were/are sometimes weird around my
scar. I can sometimes get weird (unintentionally)
around my scar…like it turns darker red when I’m stressed or struggling, and I
cover it when I’m feeling vulnerable or overwhelmed… It left this looming of question of “will people
accept me with my scar?” Not in spite of
or despite my scar but with it. Not because
they are able to look past it but because it was so much part of my picture. It’s no longer the burning question – mostly because
I have friends who are stinking amazing…
I was honored to stand in a wedding for dear friends of mine
the summer after my second surgery. That
meant that my scar was red, bumpy and noticeable to boot! I fretted about how I didn’t want attention
to be on my scar (for me or others) on their special day. An older friend said she had some great coverup
samples and told me to experiment with them, use what worked, and later give
back the rest. I found one that nearly
completely faded it! BUT it didn’t erase
it. In the end, it was okay. My newly married friends came and visited
around the holidays and brought their wedding album which I had made it into as
a member of the bridal party. My dear friend
said, “did I tell you what happened?”
“No…” I replied (trying to figure out if I should tell her I forgot to
take my white hair tie off my wrist and it was in like every photo). She responded “my photographers called when
editing photos and said they noticed one of my bridesmaids had a pretty
noticeable scar and asked if we wanted it edited out. I told them ‘no’ and that it was something I
loved about you.” [I told them about the
hair tie then because I was a little irritated they could edit out my scar but
not my awkward white “bracelet”].
Sometimes when I’m in a funk where I don’t like my scar, or just need to
be reminded of the incredible people in my life, I think of this story and tear
a little. I am SO grateful for friends
such as these!
So, I raise my glass and toast to the past…because it’s been
a hilarious ride! Happy 10th Birthday
my old friend! Cheers!
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| It's just a sewing tracer! Promise! |
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| After Surgery #1 |
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| After Surgery #2 (This is my "I just one a goldfish!"picture) |
