First I want to Thank Marty http://networkedblogs.com/p4cU "Coffee with Marty" for giving me this great idea today (thank you Marty).
Scars, we all have them, little ones, big ones, ones that we try to hide, ones we proudly show off to anyone who will look at them, and ones that are so deep inside of us; that they change us forever.
Scars, I have a few, I bet you do too. I'll tell you about a couple of mine. Wow, now that I think about it, I have a more then a few. I won't bore you with with all those stories in one post, I'll spread them out.. hmm I might be able to do a whole "month of scars" .. LOL nope, don't worry.. I don't have that many..
The first scar I noticed was on my face. My right cheek to be exact. I was adopted so I don't think anyone really knew how I got that scar. I wondered for years how I came by it. I was adopted at the age of 2, so I got it early. It was dark and it showed. I found out years later, from my Aunt Janet, that it came during my birth, clamps to be exact. We were looking through the big box of family pictures and found one of me at about 3 days old. She asked if I had the scar, looked at it and said "it really is you"... Confirming with much finality that I was truly who we thought I was. there was hugging and crying. I was 33 yrs old and had never seen a baby picture of myself. So some scars help identify us. They confirm an event.
The next scar came a few years later. I was probably about 7 0r 8. I fell off my bike while riding it around the basketball hoops at the little park down at the end of our street. I walked home pushing my bike, crying, dirty, and bloody. I had skinned up both knees. The event called for a quick trip to the ER where the Dr. picked gravel and glass out of my knees for what seemed like forever. I was sent home with bandages, special cream, and tissues. I had a scar for many years afterward. That scar came during the course of a regular day. It got me some extra attention and lots of hugs from my Papa...
The third scar came when I was 9 ish.. Oh and it's a scar that I even tell my grandkids about, tho I don't show it to anyone anymore. It is my scar of bad behavior.
This story begins with a summer day, a new bb gun, and 3 kids playing while the babysitter is in the basement doing laundry. (remember laundry back then consisted of washing, drying, and ironing.. I think Jean was ironing) It all started out innocently enough. we were going to shoot at targets outside. We did.. We even went the 3 or 4 doors down to the other kids grandparents house to shoot in their back yard for a few minutes. Then for some reason, probably to get more ammo, we returned to our house.. and shot up my bedroom furniture. it all made really good targets and we were really quiet.. then while we were waiting for Jean to come back upstairs and fix us lunch we started goofing around, like kids do. Keith held the gun up to my abdomen and pronounce in his Matt Dillion voice, " I'm gonna shoot you". I laughed and told him there were no more bb's in the gun, so na na a boo boo... well, was I wrong. there was still one.. Keith very politely shot me right in the stomach. I cried, he cried, and the kid who was playing with us, well he lit out the door and I'll bet he is still running.. Jean heard all the commotion and came upstairs to see what we were into, and found me holding my stomach balling my eyes out.. She inspected my wound, dressed and bandaged it.. march Keith to his room, by the way, we'd shot up his bedroom furniture too; and left him there to "Think".. I was sent to my room, where Jean surveyed another mutilated dresser. I was told to sit and "Think" about what I'd done. Jean got a screwdriver and some other tools and tore that bb gun apart. Papa never could get it back together.. Anyway we received proper punishments. There were no more bb guns in our home. We spent a whole weekend filling in bb gun holes with wood putty (thank God the dressers were made of real wood) and then had to paint them. That was a Reminder Scar. A reminder that was made very real by my Papa that guns, even bb guns are not toys. They are dangerous and one of us could have lost an eye or worse. That scar reminds me that some things are dangerous even though they seem to be fun at the time.
The next scar came the summer I turned 13. I had a few minor complaints of pain and would lay around alot. After numerous trips to the Dr. I was put in the hospital for tests, nothing.. so I returned home. after 3 days I was taken to the hospital again and admitted for a lower exploratory.. I had a bad appendix and a few other abnormalities that were fixed. I have a scar. I thought it funny when the Dr., a man in his 50's, told me the incision was made in such a way that I could wear a bikini and no one would ever see it.. LOL I have NEVER worn a bikini. Tho I do thank you Dr. Dunworth for thinking there may come a time in my life when I would. My appendix ruptured 20 minutes after they removed it. That scar reminds me that my life is precious.
OK, that's all the scar stories I want to tell now. I'll finish it up later today. It's snowing, a lot, and I'm sure I'll have time to finish today or tomorrow.
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