Scars


Scars

I was diagnosed with Crohn’s disease at the age of thirteen in November 2007. This was four years after a doctor branded my regular symptoms of my health condition as ‘imaginary’ and a product of an ‘over-anxious mother’.   

Since being diagnosed I have been on lots of medication; tried various food and liquid diets; had bowel resection surgery in July 2010; and in October 2013 had a flare-up that hospitalised me for nearly a week, during which my potassium levels were dangerously low I could have died. I have also made so many lifelong friends, and completed a tandem skydive for Crohn’s and Colitis UK and Dyspraxia Foundation in June 2018.

One of the many lessons I have learnt living with Crohn’s disease as well as dyspraxia, anxiety and depression, is health conditions, both physical and mental, are very ‘hidden’. If you were to look at me you would see a boy in his twenties. You would not see the hospital visits; the crying in the toilets; the bullying in the school corridors; the caring responsibilities of looking after a dad who has primary-progressive multiple sclerosis.

As we are coming to the end of ‘Crohn’s and Colitis Awareness Week 2018’ I wanted to share a poem with you. Scars is inspired by all the experiences mentioned above, especially the ‘hidden’ nature of health conditions. I am thankful that there are many people including yourself who are willing to listen to my story. Thank you for making these ‘hidden’ aspects more visible.

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Scars

When I look at myself I see a scared boy.
I see him crouching over the toilet with brown
Shit dripping down his arm, cursing as the burning
Never stops. I see him being told by his doctor that
He made this nightmare up; that it was ‘imaginary’.
That’s a scar.

When I look at myself I see a vulnerable boy.
I see him being bullied in school for being ‘different’
As he can’t run, can’t write, can’t read, can’t speak.
I see him being teased for needing that little extra help
So he doesn’t become another shadow in the corridor.
That’s a scar.

When I look at myself I see a lonely boy.
I see him without his dad carrying him up high
On his shoulders, standing over the darkness below.
I see him alone in the hallway listening to old voices,
Old memories from the one who slipped into the night.
That’s a scar.

But you don’t see this boy when you look at me.
You don’t see the cursing in hospital.
You don’t see the bullying at school.
You don’t see the mourning at home.
You see a ‘normal boy’ when you look at me.
That’s the deepest scar of all.

That's the deepest scar of all...Copyright © 2018 Rakicevic Nenad. All rights reserved.