Sixth Month Incision Update

It’s time once again to check in with my scar. It has been almost six months to the day since I got sawed in half and put back together. I’m quite pleased with my scar’s progress, and I even think my it’s kinda pretty. At the same time, my scar also gives me street cred when I flash it in the ‘hood.

Photo # 1. This is a repost. Luau hula dog Bow Tie o’ the Day posed with me and my incision while I selfied this pic in my hospital bed at Huntsman. Please excuse the slight wardrobe malfunction in the upper left corner of the photo. I blame my epidural for drugging my censor ability at the time I snapped this.

Photo # 2. Bow Tie o’ the Day represents the screws and bolts my surgeon did not have to use to put me back together. I got stapled of course.

I thought it would be painful to have my staples removed, which they did right before they wheeled me out of the hospital. But I hardly felt their removal. I watched each staple as it was pulled out, and the entire thing was a smooth and graceful procedure. The doctor wouldn’t let me keep the staples though. The minuscule staple entry holes around my scar are almost completely invisible at this point. I have been told by my medical-y friends that the scar itself will gradually whiten-up over time.

At this point, my scar itches me quite a bit, and the area around it sometimes feels like I have a deep bruise inside my gut beneath the scar. I feel a tug or a pull inside now and then, but the strangest feeling I’ve had is feeling as if a strip of Velcro is being pulled off my innards. Nothing to worry about. I’m having an interesting adventure in my inner self, literally and metaphorically.

Sometimes, when I feel frustrated with my lack of energy and my various tweaks and pokes, I tell Suzanne I wish I’d never had the surgery. And I truly mean it for that moment. Occasionally, it’s a very long moment. But then I remember Suzanne pushed me to have the procedure because she says she wants me around for the rest of her life. I come to my senses then. Without the surgery, my expiration date would be years less than it should be. When I think going through the operation wasn’t worth it to me, I remember I’m not just one person. I’m my family and my friends. I’m especially Suzanne.