Learning To Love You More




Assignment #11
Photograph a scar and write about it.

Carola Lotta Hommerich



Since I was 18 a lump had been growing on my left hand. Nothing bad really, just an exostosis. It hardly gave me any trouble, sometimes my wrist hurt a little. So - it was to be removed. During the operation only my left arm was narcotized. I was fully awake. They had put some kind of black cloth around my lower left arm. I had decided not to look, I even held a book in my hand which I was determined to read. It was strange to not have any feeling in my left arm and try to read normally. Then I heard the doctor say to the nurse: "Oh dear, this goes much further down into the wrist than I thought - we'll have to dig a little deeper." That made me look - just out of reflex.
I saw my left hand, all white, with a big deep cut which was held open by metal clasps. The doctor was just pulling out a very long scissor-like instrument. I remember thinking: "How did all of that fit into my hand? How deep did that go?" I felt completely detached to my hand. It looked like what seemed to be a wax model, but not one of my body parts. When I realized that this was my actual hand I was looking at and - again out of reflex - tried to move it and could not, because of the anasthetic - a very strange feeling began to form inside of me. A mixture of fear that I might never be able to use my hand, but also a calm reassurance: "So this is my inside", I thought. I didn't turn my eyes away. I kept watching how they cut out the exostosis. Only when the nurse started to sew up the skin, I looked at my book again.
Now, whenever I look at the tiny scar on my left hand, it reminds me of how I once looked inside of my wrist. Then, I feel like an organic robot. It's not a bad feeling.