Within a matter of 5 years, I got myself butchered 3 times. The most recent was just 2 weeks ago after a lump was found on the right side of my thyroid. After getting an ultrasound scan of the lump and a discussion with the ENT, we decided the best option was to get the lump out since it is not likely for the lump to shrink and disappear if we adopt the wait-and-see strategy. Plus, there was a possibility the lump could be cancerous and no way am I going to sit around and wait for the time bomb to explode.
And so I saw myself getting wheeled into the operating theatre once again. Even though it was for a different purpose, the ritual before the surgery was there and about the same. Not sure if I should take consolation that I am well-versed on what the process is and thus less fearful. From the fasting, admission paperwork, the routine questions the nurses need to ask, the gears to put on before surgery to how the operating theatre looks like (it is pretty swanky… cold, white, clean with a big round light above the operating table. And if you should put in a couple of Martians it will look exactly like the inside of a spaceship in a sci-fi movie). Oh joy….
After a long "afternoon nap" that lasted 3 hours, I regained some consciousness and the first thing I heard was the doc telling me that everything is ok and the lump wasn’t cancerous. If I had the energy then, I think I might have strike a victory pose for him.
The lump was gone but unfortunately the 7 cm scar is stuck with me for life. Even though the ENT did point that out to me before the operation (well… even if he didn’t I am fully aware of that fact) and I was grumbling about it, it was an issue that was in the backseat. After the dressing came off and the stitches removed, the issue decided to switch to the front passenger seat. The wound was raw with dried up blood and the neck area was battered with bruises. The reality hit me face-on when I looked into the mirror for the first time after the dressing was removed. It was pretty gross and I wondered hard and long each time I stand infront of the mirror, if the wound will heal nicely.
The following days, I had well-meaning people around me asking how I was doing and most of the time I never fail to mention that I hope the wound will heal well and not leave a scar that was too obvious. There was a handful who would tell me that health is more important and that I shouldn’t be making that (the scar) a problem. Gradually I started to wonder if people could have made me feel better by not brushing my remarks on the scar away so lightly and appeared as if I have placed my time and energy in the wrong area. I wouldn't have mind if people would recognise that the scar is there and perhaps suggest some methods they know or heard of that can help in the healing or simply just asking me to take care of myself.
I had a cut (twice infact) that was double the length across my lower abdominal and that was of no real drama to me because I don’t walk around with an exposed abdominal. But the situation is very different when the cut is right across the front neck and I don't deny that I am quite concern about how the wound will eventually look after the healing is complete.
While I won't cry, get depressed or commit suicide over it, it is there and I cannot ignore its presence.... and same goes for the people around. Because strangers, colleagues and family members have a tendency these days to fixate their focus on my neck area when we talk, and ironically some of them can tell me it is not obvious while at the same time staring straight at the wound.
I don't mind if people look, otherwise I would have just wore something to cover the neck area. The scar is there and I need to learn to accept it, just like how I wish people around can accept that having a scar across the neck can be a concern to a certain degree. Perhaps because it is not on their neck…. or maybe I should suggest that they try getting a 7 cm cut on their front neck first before we talk.