The Adventures of Kidney Boy

A Journal About Living With End Stage Renal Disease. Dialysis. Transplants. Love. Family. Friends. The Unsung Donor. This is my life, from the end of a needle to the bottom of a pill bottle.

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Scars

The other day a facbook group about dialysis patients, kidney disease and transplants had a bunch of people sharing their scars.  One thing about us ESRD patients is that we are often covered with scars.  I have quite the number myself.  My stomach and lower abdomen looks like a roadmap to Albuquerque.  You know, scars aren't always pleasent, but for many of us - they're symbols of what we've survived.  They're reminders of what we endured. 

Some guy, who belonged to the same group, commented on how he didn't want to see those - they were "putting him off his lunch".

We spend so much time covering up things like our scars or our fistulas, for the comfort of others because they "can't handle it."  Well, I'm really very sorry that you're such a delicate and weak person that you can't successfully handle the marks of another's struggle - someone who may have been through something worse than you.  Something that you think would be so horrible, but something you might be surprised to find out average and normal people survive all the time.

The strength of character and spirit is often tested with such illnesses as ESRD.  People do not like to be confronted with them - to be reminded of their own mortality - so a lot of us chronically ill people spend our time covering up.  Not for our own peace of mind, but to provide it for others around us.  Not just kidney patients - but people of all kinds.  I think it's kind of silly - people are all so apt to wear bracelets or ribbons for diseases, but God Forbid human beings go out in public as who they are.

My scars aren't pretty at all - and my fistuala is huge and garish to look at.  But I survived the incidents that let to them.  I'm still alive, I'm still kicking, and I'm still a human being.  My scars are my stories.  My scars are a roadmap of my life.  They show the bumps in the road.  They remind me of what I can endure.  They remind me that I became stronger than I ever thought I could be - and in the long road of life ahead of me, I know I'll have more.  And I need that reminder of my own strentgth in those times when I look to what I know I'll have to endure in the future.

So, I'm sorry if our scars put you off your lunch, but you could probably stand not to eat for a moment anyway, sir.


~Steve

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