Summary

The text is a poignant reflection on the personal and emotional journey of a breast cancer survivor, symbolized through the imagery of a tattoo and scar on the chest.

Abstract

The author uses vivid imagery to convey the complex interplay of memory, hope, and reality as embodied by a scar from a mastectomy. This scar, described as a "valley of fibrous tributaries," represents both a physical and emotional battlefield. It is a permanent reminder of a life-altering experience, a testament to the struggle against cancer, and a symbol of survival and transformation. The narrative draws parallels between the author's experience and the myth of St. George slaying the dragon, likening the author to an Amazon warrior who, after facing the loss of a body part, emerges better prepared for future challenges. The scar is not just a mark of pain but also a source of strength, resilience, and readiness to face any adversity that may come.

Opinions

The author views the scar as a convergence point of past struggles and future hope.
There is an acknowledgment of the futility in resisting certain life events, emphasizing the importance of acceptance.
The text suggests that the cost of not confronting one's issues can be high, potentially leading to life-altering consequences.
The act of mastectomy is portrayed as both a loss and a necessary step for survival, akin to a battle wound.
The author seems to find empowerment in the aftermath of the surgery, adopting the identity of an "Amazon woman."
The scar is seen as a badge of honor, akin to the mythical St. George's victory over the dragon, symbolizing triumph over personal demons.
The author expresses a sense of readiness and strength post-surgery, indicating a shift in perspective and resilience.

Scars

From Hand Made Piece where you can get an artist to paint an original for you

This surgeon’s tattoo on my chest, this scar,

is a place where memory and hope meet reality,

A valley of fibrous tributaries that flow between ribs.

It stays with me and I cannot run away from it, the water just flows and caresses the pale shore,

it runs with me, on me, the paddle in the stream of the bloody dredged down river bed of skin.

Remembrance of the futile nature of pushing upstream when the tide and turbidity are high, the whitecaps frothy.

The cost of running, the cost of resentment,

the price of not looking in a mirror

until it’s too late, and the only way to save a life and keep from tumbling over the roaring waterfall,

is to lop off a body part,

cut off a breast,

so at least now I am prepared

for the next battle with the demons

as St. George slayed the dragon.

Baptized in the water as an amazon woman,

easier now to pull back the bow string, without a fletching, scratching the skin

and ready to lance any wound.

Susan Brearley 2019

This was a response to a group of Medium Poets’ prompt #1 for the word “scars”, thanks to Chelsea Marie.