Nora, My Melanoma - One Year Later

I don’t particularly want to write about this but I don’t see how I can avoid it, either.

I might as well just throw it out there, sprinkled liberally, because it has hung around my neck like a noose for the last few days... "It's coming! It's coming!"

This is the anniversary of my melanoma surgery. I said good-bye to Nora (as I optimistically named my cancer) and didn’t know it at the time, but said hello to a scar that still shows more than I would like it to show even though she has reached maturity.

People tell me they don’t notice it, they can’t even see it and you must know that isn’t the problem.

I see it.

I notice it.

I feel it.

Whenever people’s eyes stray to my cheek, my belly flutters and I want to raise my hand to my cheek to hide it.

I haven’t seen it as a badge of honor, I have seen it as a reminder of my various shortcomings, as if I am getting a divine slap on the face for all the times I have been a disappointment in some way or another because God knows how many people I have upset over the years.

Don’t tell me no, no, no. Don’t tsk tsk tsk me. I am bearing my guts here, spilling them out over my desk. This is how I feel, don’t negate that or get out your bright pink feather duster so my feelings and my scar won’t make you uncomfortable.

99% of the time I forget it is there. On days like today though, the anniversary, I can’t help but remember.

I haven’t been talking about it aloud which is probably one of the reasons I feel compelled to talk about it silently with you, here.

It is lovely and coolish here in Bakersfield a year later. I am able to sit at my desk with the windows open. I can hear someone nearby vacuuming. I can hear the sprinkler-created puddles as more drops of water join them. I can feel my spirit telling my heart my face is fine and I may experience a similar situation one of these days, to be ready, to be courageous, to continue loving myself enough to speak up when I need to speak up.

I close my eyes to just breathe this morning, to allow myself to fully remember and be present simultaneously.

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  Julie Jordan Scott is a writer, performance poet, Mommy and mixed-media artist. Her word-love themed art will be for sale at First Friday each month in Downtown Bakersfield. Check out the links below to follow her on a bunch of different social media channels, especially if you find the idea of a Word-Love Party bus particularly enticing.

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