I realized today that I can't see the scar from my main line anymore. It's still there, but it doesn't have that pink/new scar look anymore.
I could not be more grateful that this, of all my scars, has faded so quickly.
My other scars - both the incision and the drainage scars - are still bright pink and angry. (Heck, part of my initial incision scar from over two years ago is still pink!) I hate them. I shudder every time I look at the scar on the drainage site. I can't even think about that scar without hearing the sound of suction. It's truly disturbing. (I'm fighting a gag reflex, as I type. No joke.)
But the scar on my neck was the worst. I hated having that tube in my neck. I hated it. I hated that I could see where blood was leaving my body. I hated that I knew that was the portal for the transfusion. I hated the cap they put on my neck when they took the tubes out. I hated that main line.
Am I grateful for modern medicine, and that there was a way for them to measure my blood pressure, administer a double transfusion, and take blood samples multiple times a day without having to stick me? ABSOLUTELY. But I hated that stupid tube, and was deeply troubled by the scar. For months, I couldn't look in the mirror without seeing that pink spot.
I can't even think about that line without tearing up. Call it Cancer Survivor PTSD, call it Woosie Woo Blood-Hating Sissy, call it whatever you want. All I can say is, no one (except maybe my mother, because she had to deal with the crazy when I was in recovery) knows how much I hated that line - and how much I hated seeing the associated scar, every day.
But it's gone.
Or at least, it's not pink anymore. I still know where it is, but no one else will ever be able to see that scar again, and even I have to look for it now.
That's a tender mercy if there ever was one, and I'm grateful for it.