Battle Scars
I’ve always said, in a light-hearted manner, “If I’d known I was going to live this long, I would have taken much better care of my physical health and financial well being.”
I’ve definitely been affected by my years of substance abuse, in both subtle and obvious ways. I have a painful back condition due to herniated discs, degenerative disc disease, and arthritis and I have spent over $40,000.00 on necessary painful, dental work. I honestly think the resulting physical damage is due more to the lack of nutrition rather than the drugs themselves—but who knows? And what difference does it make anyway?
However, I am truly lucky—except for the painful back condition, I have been exceedingly healthy. Most precious, I did not harm my mind in the ways that substance abuse so often can and does. I am so grateful to have the tough constitution I do that my former destructive lifestyle did not harm my cognitive abilities. Perhaps there really is something to what my mother calls 'hybrid vigor,' which she often used to describe my strong constitution and basic good health. She was convinced I enjoyed this as the result of the Egyptian/American union that spawned me.
I have quite a few battle scars. In the bath a few nights ago, I took inventory of some of the most notable. On my right hand is a terrible scar, resulting from an abscess caused by a dirty needle. The abscess was so serious that I became completely delirious with a high fever. Dopesick from kicking heroin, Michael dragged me to the UCSF emergency room back in 1989, where we waited in the torturous, brightly lit waiting room for hours.
The doctor who finally treated me muttered nearly unintelligably that my life was not really worth saving (but I heard him); I will never forget the disgust he looked at me with and how he seemed to take such delight in the painful cleansing of the wound. After he finished cleaning and dressing it, he told I would have lost my hand completely in another two days. To be honest, he sounded somewhat disappointed I’d avoided that fate. I have often wished I had taken note of his name—so I could go back and tell him that I guessed my life really was worth saving after all. The result of this self-imposed injury is that I have difficulty holding a pencil for any period of time. The unknown benefit was that, much later, I learned to type very fast, resulting from having to take notes on my laptop, as an undergraduate student.
My inner arms are still a source of embarrassment: I have deep track mark scars that will never go away although they have faded considerably. I used to be terribly self-conscious of these marks while wearing short sleeves in summer and I always notice the pointed glances of phlebotomists when they draw my blood. Early in my recovery, I was fixated by the old scars on my inner arms; I believe those scars saved me from running out of the Freedom House a few times because their presence always reinforced how much I did not want to use drugs again. I have no euphoric recall lingering from those old drug days; all that remains are remnants of horror, despair, and hopelessness that my addiction to heroin finally brought me to. When I look at those scars on my inner scars, I do not remember heroin that was my elusive and soothing lover—I remember the culmination of where that brutal lover took me that final year, wandering homeless and hopeless through the city’s dark streets.
I don’t mind getting older—and this surprises me. I hear my friends talking about their upcoming birthdays with disdain or even fear—but for me, each one that I cross is like a long awaited finish line. I won! I made it this far—can I make it even further next year? Indeed, it is a relief to let go, finally, of physical appearances—for people to appreciate me for something more substantive than exotic good looks or soulful blue eyes. I finally understand that true beauty lives within—and any exterior is simply window dressing.
I have led a charmed life after all.
Peace,
Melinda
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Categories: Healing the Past,Heroin,Reflections,Addiction and Recovery,Personal Stories,Pain,Gratitude
Tags: addiction and recovery heroin healing old scars track marks
As Flannery O'Connor wrote, "you can't be any poorer than dead." So, if you're alive, the balance is quite definitely in your favor. And, since you're now clean and reasonably healthy...consider yourself rich.
Some people, it seems, become doctors not to help people, but to feel superior to them. I feel sorry for anybody who goes to that self-righteous quack for "care."
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I really agree with you on that doctor, Jay--I have often wished that I had taken note of his name--not just to tell him to go to hell for what he said to me--but to warn other people that this 'doctor' didn't quite take the Hippocratic oath to heart.
And Jay--every night when I say my 'Gratefuls' -- my health is absolutely the first thing on my list!
Melinda
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Melinda -
Diamonds are bits of carbon that are subjected to intense heat and pressure. Gold is refined by it being blasted in a furnace. Similarly people too are subjected to forces which can wither them; I look in the mirror myself and see the advance of grey and the bags under my eyes.
Your scars are remnants of going through this process. The point is, you did not succumb to them. You are, as you say, blessed, though perhaps in a way you did not originally intend. Yes, it's a blessing you survived; but it is a blessing that the pressures revealed something stronger, something more enduring, something more beautiful within.
I am honoured to know you.
Best wishes, GC
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What an absolutely lovely thing to write, GC--thank you so much.
I agree--the scars are part of me and cannot ever be erased. When I look at the today, I actually feel gratitude. Gratitude that I was so lucky to have won the war--even though I lost a few battles along the way.
Thanks, as always, for stopping by and for your thoughtful comments.
Melinda
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Hi Melinda- I enjoy your posts. We lived through some of these things together. I have a large scar on my forehead, front and center, which to this day, 26 years later, I have no idea where I got it. I simply woke up one morning at 116 First St., after a long night of drinking, with a bloody pillow stuck to my face. I scraped it off, taped it up, and hauled my sick and sorry self off to work, as if nothing had happened. The scar has faded some over the years, and my wrinkles now disguise it somewhat, but it is still, unmistakably, a big scar.
I did a lot of other damage to my health, which is not readily visible, but the scar is always there, front and center.
I'm actually grateful for the beating I took from alcohol and drugs. I became convinced that my ass was kicked permanently; it would never become un-kicked.
From there, I've been able to recover and live a reasonably happy and useful life. I can honestly say, that in sobriety, I have known, for the first time in my life, real joy and love and gratitude.
Thanks for your postings. They are great.
Paul Fleming
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Hi Paul,
I am so touched that you are reading my blog--thank you so much for that. One of the best things about starting my blog and writing my book has been reconnecting with people from my past (like you). We share a lot of history together, all of us--and I am so incredibly grateful that some of us made it to the other side (we both know so many of the same people who did not).
I think we both feel the same way about those old scars--they are a reminder of where we have been--and where we never want to go again. We're so lucky, aren't we Paul? How many died? Gomez, Dennis, Crawford--so many many people that we knew. Too many to count.
Thanks so much for stopping by and for leaving me a comment. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it.
Melinda
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YES! I love this post! I once heard in a meeting that we will know we are letting go when we no longer hold our arms to our side or hide them behind long sleeves. It's the same with our inner scars as well, I suppose. I knew I was letting go when I no longer stood around in a crowd of people feeling like a piece of crap.
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Absolutely, MG! If I were there, I would have applauded you for letting go. It does feel great, doesn't it?
Melinda
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I have been reading here since you submitted your blog to ASK.
My favourite drug was speed. I would still use it now if I could be bothered going and finding some. *sigh*
I stopped drinking 12 months or so ago and my main feeling now is regret that I wasted so much time,off my face. I wont drink again, I am not even interested in alcohol any more. I have finished drinking.
I have lost my teeth and will be getting shiny new ones by the end of the year. My track marks have faded and most surprisingly, my liver is in pretty good nick. The Hep C is there,lurking but not doing anything. That little time bomb probably wont go off for anothe ten years or so.I might write about that part of my life later on or I might not, who knows.
I enjoy your honesty and in so many of your posts I find myself nodding in recognition. Kim
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Kim,
Thanks so much for stopping by my blog. I have to say--I am really glad that you can't be bothered with finding speed as that is such a destructive drug. Some drugs, such as heroin, do relatively little physical damage (from the drug itself) but that is not the case with methamphetamine--it is deadly.
I agree with you on not being interested in alcohol--I could really care less and this is why I stopped attending AA meetings long ago--because I just didn't feel drawn to that lifestyle any longer. However, there is no genetic link for alcoholism/addiction in my family so I feel that in my case (anyway) that addiction was purely psychological/situational--which makes it easier to stop when one finally does.
Overall, it sounds as though we both have quite a bit to be grateful for. I'm so glad you stopped using drugs and alcohol--life is so much richer through clear eyes.
Melinda
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My husband always says "there is wisdom in our scars". You may have scars but your wisdom shines in your writing. As always, thank you for sharing.
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What a profound statement of your husband, S--thank you for sharing it with me--and thanks for stopping by--
Melinda
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Melinda,
This is such an amazing post. I read it and felt so moved by your story. I think the greatest gift you may have (and you clearly have a gift for writing) is your ability to say "I have led a charmed life after all" when you have been through so much. Most of us couldn't begin to imagine the horrors you describe. Next time I see the homeless and drug-addicted young woman who sits outside my neighbourhood liquor store from time to time, I am going to sit down and talk to her for a while. Thank you so much for your beautiful honesty.
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Cindy,
You honestly just made my day! You never know what that might do--your sitting down and talking to that young woman who is drug-addicted and homeless. That person could have been me 15 years ago and random kindness just isn't part of her world (as it was not part of mine). I will send my positive energy and prayers to that young woman--that she might be able to have the second chance at life that I was so fortunate to receive.
Thanks so much for stopping by--
Melinda
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Sometimes I look at my body and wonder that it still works after all I put it through. I still shy away from a particular scar on my arm, as it reminds me of that black hole I used to live in. I'm hoping that as more time passes, it will come to mean victory instead of that awful wish for death.
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K8,
It took me a long time before I viewed those marks on my arms as victory scars rather than marks of defeat. For a long time, I was so deeply ashamed of my past--particularly my addiction to heroin that I viewed them as signs of failure. Today, I look at them in a very different light--I see the courage and strength that I was lucky enough to find that allowed me to find my way out of hell. I sincerely hope that you view yours as signs of strength one day as well.
Take care,
Melinda
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There is great poetry in those scars. There is much to behold in that poetry, and much to learn.
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That's such a lovely thing to say, Jen--
Thank you,
Melinda
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Another precious post written in the spirit of awareness and gratitude.
It's a shame you don't have the doctor's name; what a horribly judgmental person he was. I hope he grew into a human being in time.
When I was 22 I was driving my VW bug on US 395 between my mother's house and my boyfriend's condo (where I spent most of my time). I had clothes for the week, plus about four pair of shoes that I intended to take for repair in Reno that week. A couple just leaving a tavern on the highway pulled out right in front of me. Impact so great it knocked the left shoe I was wearing across the road. Car totaled, right eyelid hanging wide open and gushing blood, I went inside the bar and called my boyfriend, who happened to be a young lawyer. When he heard one cop say to another cop, "Looks like this little hippie is living out of her car," my guy stepped into the scene, got the cop's badge number, etc., etc. He did win me enough money from the case to buy a nice used Toyota.....
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Lydia,
Yes, I have often thought about the damage that this 'doctor' likely caused--his words cut me deeply, I know that.
Wow--that sounds like such a horrible accident and how terrible that the cops treated you that way (I have some horrible cop stories too). At least you did get that new Toyota though!
Melinda
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Reminds me of something Colette wrote later in her life : "What a wonderful life I've had! I only wish I'd realized it sooner!" Fortunately, you have realized it sooner and all you and your scars have to look forward to are years of happiness, intellectual stimulation and creativity.
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Absolutely, NP! Whenever I would feel bad about the amount of time I have wasted in my life, I turn around and think how great it is that I didn't waste any more!
Melinda
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Hi, Melinda -
As I read your incredible stories, I've been trying to sense what it is that I'm responding to most deeply. Aside from events you describe - which, of course, are so powerful in your masterful telling - there's something below the words that also comes through. I finally figured it out when I remembered a man who used to walk every morning by our house in Santa Fe. He looked to be a hearty 70 or so, and as he strode briskly along he would wave and beam (i.e. like the sun) at everyone he saw. Huge smile, direct look, vigorous wave, full of the love of life. Here was a man who had clearly been transformed somehow - perhaps by recovery from a near-fatal heart attack, I never got the story straight. He had come to experience every moment of life as a miracle and radiated that love of existence.
And that's it - there's a drive and spirit in your stories that help me feel that sense of life. Sure, you put it out there very differently, but it's the same beaming sunlight that comes through.
John
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Wow, John--I am so incredibly touched by your kind words. You really made my day.
I do know this--that the one overpowering feeling that I carry with me every day, these days, is my immense gratitude. I am so grateful for having a second chance in life, for having a husband who loves me, friends that care about me, and most importantly perhaps--to have done what I did to myself and not destroyed my mind, Not many people are as fortunate as I am. I think you might be seeing that gratitude shining through.
Thank you again--so much.
Melinda
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Thank you so much for what you wrote. I am a 24 year old heroin addicit. This is my first time visitng your website. I just wanted to say I can relate to what you said 100% only I dream of the day I can wear short shelves or even enjoy something like going to the beach. Even around close family it is something that makes me very self conscious. It is a huge deal for me and has been very hard dealing with after getting clean. I have even considered getting tattoos to cover the almost black scar tissue on my inner arms and forearms. I have been told they will fade but have yet to notice much. Thank you for the hope that one day I'll look at these scars as something positive. Thank you for the hope that it is possible to one day embrace this as just part of who you are. I feel your pain that you have gone through, so I know how hard it must be for you to write this and post pictures. Thank you for the hope.
- JC
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Oh, my dear--I so hope that you can find recovery. There is such a better life for you and I hope you will try to take any steps you can to overcome your addiction to heroin. If you need help finding resources, please use this contact form (http://www.melindaville.com/Contact.html) and I will do what I can to help you get into treatment.
Remember, people do care about you--your life is worth living and there can be a better day. I really hope you can find the inner strength to take that first step.
Take care, J.C.--I hope to hear from you.
Melinda
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Next time you give blood and they look at you rudely, tell them you fell on a cactus!
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Ha ha ha ha ha! I think I shall, Cathy--that's a great response!
Melinda
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I just wanted to let you know that I think this article is one of the most beautiful, real things I've ever read. I stumbled across it while searching on the internet, and I think it was almost a god send.
I'm a 22 year old recovering alcoholic. I'm Irish, both and breed and I hale from a family of long time alcoholics. I have many scars from stupid things I did when I was drunk, scars I wish I could make go away sometimes. My long time boyfriend is ex heroin addict who's arms are littered with the reminders of his addiction. Both of us have been having a hard time of things lately, being in college and seeing our peers make the same mistakes we did, laugh at us when we warn them. Having other's look down on us for the people we used to be. But when I read this article It gave me hope that I can be more than the sum of my mistakes. You are inspirational in your honest and I believe you have helped me more than you can imagine. Thank you for you honest and willingness to share you're struggles. I have someone to look up to now.
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Grainne,
Wow--I can tell you that your comment really made my day! If I can inspire one person to stay on the road to recovery--well, what a gift that is for everyone!
How lucky you are to have found recovery at a younger age--and I really do mean that. Also, there may be some that will not listen to your warnings--but believe me, others will (and those are the ones who are often silent). Also, some of the people who laugh at your warnings today may very well remember them when they have hit their rock bottom. There's a readiness for everything. How wonderful that you and your bf were ready for recovery before you wasted too much of your lives (or perhaps even lost your lives!).
Blessings, Grainne--thank you so much for your comment. It's all about passing it along, isn't it?
Melinda
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