Scars

I probe the scars of cancer treatment and realize they are my salvation.

BY Laura Yeager

PUBLISHED April 16, 2019

As well as being a cancer blogger, Laura Yeager is a religious essayist and a mental health blogger. A graduate of The Writers’ Workshop at The University of Iowa, she teaches writing at Kent State University and Gotham Writers’ Workshop. Laura survived cancer twice.

When I'm standing there naked after a shower, looking in my bathroom mirror, I can't help but stick my finger into the hole that was made by the drainage tube that was stuck into my side after breast cancer. The tube was attached to a bulb that caught the fluids draining from my body. Today, when I did this, I couldn't help but think of Thomas, sticking his fingers into Jesus' side after Jesus was crucified and rose from the dead.

Yes, folks, cancer treatment is a little like crucifixion. What doesn't kill you makes you well. My oncologist used to say "I'm pumping poison into your body." They burn your flesh with radiation treatment. Then, they cut you up and remove the most treasured parts of your body--your beautiful breasts. It's a bit ghastly. You die a bit.

But when it's over, you come back from the dead. Your hair grows back. Your cheeks turn pink again. You regain your strength. And you become like the proverbial Thomas, poking your finger into your own wound to verify that this whole hideous procedure happened to you.

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