( continues...) stuff peeked out.
There's a scar along my instep whose roots no one can place. This disturbs me.
My nemesis is on the base of my foot. It started simply enough, with a needle. Unlike the exploratory work on my leg, this was a mistake. I'd been hunting for it, and stepped on it instead. For someone who works around hospitals, my mother sure doesn't like them much. She took way too much time to yell at me for being messy. The needle wasn't hurting exactly, but it felt like it was lying beside a nerve, and that's a very disquieting feeling.
Long after the surgery (it's been over 15 years now), I can still feel the scar. At first it was just during bad periods. Now, it's the harbinger that tells me I'm low on anti-seizure meds. The tingling starts there, and moves up my leg, getting more and more grim, until it reaches my knee, where it settles in and changes its name to pain.
I can feel its full length all the time. Just thinking about it sends a flutter up and down the (6 stitch) scar.
Sensation is what tells me I am alive. Scars are what tell me that I have lived.