more bullet holes…

I’m a nurse.  With that said, you should know I’m one of those nurses who enjoys my work and kid a little with my patients to put them at ease.  For example, bullet holes as in the title of this article, are actually surgical incisions.  To be specific they are laparoscopic surgical incisions, and honestly they look more like stab wounds than bullet holes but I’ve been calling them bullet holes so long I’m not inclined to change my lingo.

So, guess what?  I added to my collection this last week.  What was it this time? My dang gallbladder decided to go on strike.  I’ve been having some issues with upset stomach for a while now but a few weeks ago I had what I thought was a painful stomach virus lasting two very long days.  Once I returned to work, the surgeon I work with asked me how I was feeling, and after sharing my symptoms with him, he casually asked if I still had my gallbladder.  I of course did, and he ordered a scan to check the little sucker out.  Long story short here, my gallbladder was functioning at a pretty low level. TRAITOR! I thought, but what could I do?  It was time for the little guy to come out.  I was put on the surgery schedule.

No big deal for a nurse, right?  I’ve had a lot of surgeries in the last few years.  Still, I was nervous about undergoing anesthesia again and post op healing again.  All the what ifs were running through my head the week leading up to surgery.  Have you ever heard nurses don’t always make the best patients?  I basically freak out pre-operatively with worry, then on the back end I do well and behave as the perfect patient should.  Honestly, I’m all about best practices and getting better quickly, thus I follow my surgeon’s directions and adhere to post op instructions.  (This is where I give myself a big pat on the back.)

This morning I was removing the last of the steri-strips from my belly.  I looked in the mirror scrunching up my nose.  Four more bullet holes, oh well.  You could play connect the dots on my torso or maybe draw a map?  If I was a vase I’d leak all over the place through all the dang cracks.  Seriously, though its a good thing I’m not. LOL. While I was still standing there alone in the privacy of my bedroom I thought back to the time when my vanity was affected by all the scars and surgeries.  My how time and circumstances have changed.  Now I look in the mirror and think…

I’m a survivor.

I’m still me, just with a few cracks.

Scars are like tattoos, but with better stories.

My scars show I was stronger than what tried to kill me.

The last few years have given me more depth of character than the life I’d lead before ever did.


Thanks to modern medicine, I’m on the mend again.  I’m still here.  I’m still standing.  I’m so grateful for my scars.