Damn.

My scar hurts again.

I just work up this morning, and it hurt.

I can always tell when my scar is going to hurt in the morning because I have an unusually hard time waking up, my throat is sticky and thick, and my whole body is stiff and sore.

And when I get up, my scar aches and aches.

It hasn't torn this time. Sometimes it does. But I checked, and there weren't even the faint red lines that are usually there.

The docter said if I wanted it to stop hurting, I'd have to get plastic surgery and my scar would be thicker, but it wouldn't hurt anymore.

I've thought about it because, well, this scar is part of me and a bigger one won't really make any difference on my self image.

On the other hand, there's that word 'surgery'. And 'docter'. And 'hospital'.

I remember the last time I went to the hospital to get my chest x-rayed (breathing problems are often associated with kidney defects), and I tried not to, but I cried and cried and cried.

Even though it was just a chest x-ray.

I couldn't help it.

I just started crying when I was sitting in the lobby and didn't stop until I'd just about reached school (it was a morning check-up).

The nurse was being snappy and irritable because I was her first patient of the morning, and that didn't help either.

The guy sitting next to me felt sorry for me, I think. He was a docter who'd come for a check up, too. He never talked to me, though.

I don't know why I cry in hospitals.

Childhood trauma, maybe?

.

Rosie.

Before&After