My scars form a lopsided winking face on the upper half of my body. Since I do not constantly wear turtlenecks, there is usually some visible sign of the trauma my body has incurred.
When I was a 4 year old in preschool, I was the bald cancer kid, but my peers never treated me differently. By five, my hair had grown back and my scars were starting to heal and fade. I started kindergarten, and the only reminder that I had had cancer was the occasional follow up appointment. I wasn’t hiding from my past, but my past was hidden. When I had play-dates with friends, my parents would need to communicate that I may tire more easily and need a nap, or we would go swimming and my friends would see my scars when I was in a bikini. No one pried or gawked; or maybe I was too young to notice.