I was 19 when I found out I had cancer.
In the two years of my cancer journey I have accumulated numerous scars and war wounds, as I like to call them. They are each a reminder of my battle and my survivorship. Some of the scars have faded over time, but the scar on my chest is still noticeable and always will be. My scars are my constant reminder that I survived something that was mentally, physically, emotionally and socially demanding. Some days it reminds me of that period of my life when everything was up in the air and the uncertainty that was like a cloud hovering. Other days I see my scar and it reminds me of what I went through and how lucky I am to be standing here today.
People see my scar and want to know the story of how I got it. My scar does affect my physical appearance and, if I had the choice I would choose to not have it. Because cancer was just a period of time in my life, not who I am today. Everyone has scars and each one will tell a story. This is my story.