In English class, we prepared for our own personal essay by reading college application essays, because they provide a quick glimpse of a person in essay form. The goal of this essay is to have the reader understand the writer on a whole new level after reading it, in a unique way of course. Something that I find unique about myself is my scars from my surgeries as an infant and young child. They hold a lot of meaning and importance for me, so writing about them came naturally.
“Where are those scars from?”
During the summer months, a time of year where lack of clothing is acceptable, this is the most frequently asked question directed towards me. While I enjoy jokingly responding with “I actually was stabbed in the back and various other places,” the true explanation of my scars is possibly more compelling.
My life began in El Camino Hospital; literally being yanked out of my mother’s belly (she had a c-section, okay?). Then, I was quickly transferred to Lucile Packard Children’s Hospital at Stanford via raging ambulance through World Cup traffic. My fate was unknown. This immediate relocation was due to my tracheal esophageal fistula (TEF) and esophageal atresia. Basically, in regular English terms, this means that during my early stages of human life as a fetus, a wall dividing my windpipe and “food pipe” didn’t develop properly. Consequently, the water I swallowed while in the womb travelled to my lungs, not through the digestive system. As if matters couldn’t get worse, I also happened to be born with another difficulty; patent ductus ateriosus, meaning that a blood vessel failed to close correctly after I was born. Both of these conditions required multiple surgeries, IV’s, and my first five weeks of life to be spent in the NICU (Neonatal Intensive Care Unit). As a result, I have about a dozen scars related to these complications residing on my body. They serve as constant reminders of self-worth, imperfection, and struggle.
Years of my life were dedicated in attempting to appreciate, understand, and even open up about the scars.
I grew up with the belief that my scars were weird and alien. I legitimately believed I maybe wasn’t human throughout my toddler years. This skepticism of my humanity was formed because I thought the scar on my left rib highly resembled a belly-button. In fact, I would refer to it as my “second belly-button.” Luckily after a few enlightening conversations with my parents about basic anatomy, I learned I was a human being.
As a child and especially preteen, I struggled with situations that are trivial for most people. Public changing and wearing a bikini to a pool party were circumstances which induced extreme amounts of anxiety, shame, and jealousy for me. I would endlessly search for a trendy bathing suit that still managed to cover some of the bigger scars, but I was forced to settle with “un-cool” tank-inis and one pieces. While pools, beaches, and bodies of water are my favorite places on this planet, they were difficult to fully enjoy because I was constantly producing negative thoughts. All the other girls flaunted their normal stomachs without an ounce of fear. Why can’t I be normal…for just a day, to know what it’s like? Amazingly, I was able to find comfort and acceptance with those whose judgment I feared the most, other girls my age. Once I actually had a set group of close, trustworthy friends, my insecurities faded away. Rather than insulting me, they were respectful. The thought that they actually did not care I was a tad different amazed me; and still does.
How I allowed minor imperfections to hinder my self-worth and esteem for so long astonishes me as well. Luckily, entering high school has allowed my perception of physical flaws to evolve tremendously. High school has provided me countless experiences that created relationships with amazing people. The ones currently in my life fuel my self-esteem.
