since cancer made its permanent mark on me at 7, ive never escaped surgical suffering. just had another. didnt expect the scar to be massive, nearly half my chevron. spent years wishing them gone, but maybe scarification is part of my purest form. the second leg isn't done yet. both arms follow. permitting myself to romanticize the suffering, turn it into some kind of apotheosis. why forever cut open, though? why not whole?