The Power of a Scar

This is my 3rd and final contribution to the Beautiful Freaks Fest 2: Scars, Scars, Scars… Such Terrible Beauty! You can find my 1st and 2nd entries here and here. To delight in the yummy creations of other Wicked Darlings (who chose to take their scars and turn them into trinkets and armor of terrible beauty), just follow the link. I’m also linking this wee piece to Poets United.

 

“The Power of a Scar”

Life carves
magic on the body,

stories of hurt (and bliss)
that scar living
on the skin,

poetry of experiences
that can be shaped
through choices made
by hearts and souls

exulting in the power of a scar
embraced.

 

 

Obsessive-Compulsive Behavior (camouflaged as discipline) Can Be a Superpower

I am doing fantastically well.

I started with that statement because more than a handful of you has messaged me to let me know you are concerned about my virtual-MIA-ness. Thank you for that, it means a lot to me. My incision is healing beautifully… I’m regaining mobility a lot faster than expected… And although we aren’t yet sure what will happen next (the pathology isn’t back), I feel quite ready (even eager) for what’s to come.

I spend most of my day reading about chemo, radiation, hormones, supplemental therapies, nutrition, exercise… and anything I can think of that might ready me for the conversations I will have with the breast and radiation oncologists once the lab results are back. Writing, researching, exercising several times a day, sleeping for healing, groping my Piano Man for healing, 😀 and spending a ridiculous amount of time staring at my new sexy in the mirror takes a lot of my day and night.

So, please don’t worry, my Wicked Luvs. I am not in pain (or in any more pain than I have been in the last decade. Just busy, busy, busy… and sort of obsessed (in the best of ways) with the new bits of me. Some might find this attitude unhealthy, feel that I’m allowing myself to be consumed by the effects of the disease. But… in my case, at least, they would be wrong. When it comes to new trials, I’m disciplined to the point of obsession—I use all the energy and time I can afford in eliminating the immediate threat, analyzing anything I’ve gained (or lost) in the battle… then I play (blog, Instagram, Facebook) and move on to the next fight.

That is how I work. I assess the enemy, acknowledge (and delight in) my assets, then I sink my teeth into anything fighting against me… until one of us cries for mercy, runs, or agrees to go into a long, long, long… period of remission.

I suspect my blogging will become more predictable in a week or three. Until then, remember: I’m not suffering at the bottom of some dark lagoon. Nope. I’m exploring the lagoon’s revealing darkness… while wondering how much yummier the cool water will feel on my skin… after chemo takes all my hair… and my boob and I get to swim naked and grinning (and roaring battle-cry-bubbles) like the fluidly-sexy-beast I know myself to be.

 

P.S. I will lurk around your cyber-homes (and reply to your words here, Instagram, Facebook…) sometime tonight. Be good. Be wicked. Be wicked good, my Luvs.