The scar you see on my foot, I have no memory of.
The scars you don’t see I remember.

It’s strange not having any substantial memory of the process of receiving something that leaves a mark on your body.  I have a sense memory of it, I jump about a mile when someone touches that area and always have, but I have no memories of the actual surgery itself. This is probably for the best, though, since they probably wouldn’t be pleasant!

On the other hand, I have scars you can’t see. Many physical, some psychological.

Apparently, the insides of my eyes are a mess of scar tissue from prior surgeries. Who knew?

I have memories of all sorts of medical procedures, of month after month of shots, of days spent in waiting rooms and pharmacies.

In a way, these memories are more salient and more challenging than the far-away memories of my visible scar.

So what is #TheStoryBehindMyScar? I don’t know, it’s evolving. It’s the past, it’s past experiences that still influence my life. It’s that there is much more to my experiences than that scar. It’s that there are more subtle scars. It’s not the whole story.

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