My memory fades in and out of that day. I have my own memories I try to piece together and then I have one others have told me. Their versions. That day I was in the ambulance. I was broken, bleeding all over, but I had no idea where the blood was coming from. My eyes were open and then closed. Light headed and in pain. I was sick to my stomach, but had nothing to throw up. Then, everything went dark, until there was light again. I was now being rolled through white halls while I was flat on my back. I could hear slight murmuring coming from people around me. I could hear beeping and someone over an intercom. The lights so bright I was blinded for 30seconds at a time. Looking around me, I could see those that loved me. Those that cared. The looked sad. Worried. Upset. Concerned. They were confused. I was trying to hear what they are saying but I can’t quite make it out, then it was black again. This time it was black, dark for what seemed like months.
When I started seeing the light again, I saw my friends, my family and a light. I remember hearing them tell me they loved me. Some sat close and prayed for me. Others called and wanted me to know I would be ok. A few held me so close I almost forgot how much pain I was in. I was so broken that at times it was hard to talk back. To explain how I felt. To tell them where it hurt the most. It was a constant flow of love, support, jokes, distractions and help.
I was cut open and left that way so I could heal. When the time was right, I was stitched up. After the stitches began to fall out, I started to accept that I was going to be left with a scar. I hated that scar. That memory. A scar that no matter how much ointment I rubbed over it, it would always be there, then I began to accept it. To realize it was now a part of me, of who I am, of my story and what a fabulous story it is.
Today I am OK. No one asks about the scar. No one sees it or even knows it is there. Today I don’t take anything or anyone for granted. I see the good in most everything that comes my way. I still struggle, but I am also thankful and grateful for my scar. I am now proud of it. It reminds me of how strong I am. My scar is also a reminder that I am loved and life can’t be all that bad if you are loved by so many.