Scars, Pt. 2
I was thinking about my previous post and about the conventionally unglamorous nature of scars and why I appreciate them so much. As the mind (or at least my chemo-brained mind) sometimes does I drifted along to other marginally related signs of living. I don't recall the exact trail I followed but I ended up thinking about oxygen tanks and wheelchairs and how I see them.
To me they are a far different and definitely less appreciated sign of living. Much the same as scars from past injuries but without the desirable nature or attractive qualities. I feel this is probably a universal view of the two; I've never had someone say damn that oxygen tank makes you look sexy.
And, continuing to drift along, I wondered why this dichotomy might be true. Why could scars be seen as attractive, even sexy, but other signs of injury, wheelchairs for example, would not.
It dawned on me that we as a species are not so far removed from our more primitive instincts as we'd like to think we are. We simply have more complex languages to describe our interactions with these instincts.
Scars, for instance, show us someone who survived an injury and is (presumably) none the worse for wear thus indicating a possibly higher quality set of genes (able to heal from injury without lasting physical effect). We might perceive, perhaps completely subconsciously, that this person with scars is strong and 'fit' in the Darwinian sense and thus is desirable.
An oxygen tank or a wheelchair, however, implies grevious injury one was not able to overcome and indicates a present infirmity, thus showing the person as less strong or 'fit', again possibly completely subconsciously.
I was thinking about a post made by a friend in the recent past talking about weakness and our desire to prevent others from seeing our weaknesses. It was a poignant post and spoke to me rather directly concerning how I feel about my health. I'll never be fully comfortable around others when I have to use an oxygen tank or a wheelchair because it is weakness displayed. There's no way to conceal the faults they imply and no way to raise your appeal to those around you beyond a certain, very low ceiling.
I'd like to believe I'm not vain, but who am I kidding? While my vanity may not be a pronounced as some more notable individuals I still want to be seen as a desirable individual. Being single and feeling a tug to be amorous (after all, Spring is coming) it makes it much harder to accept the accoutrements of disability with grace.
Rather I feel like a 4 year old who was just told he couldn't have a cookie and is now pouting in a corner somewhere because it isn't fair. I resist that I must have these things in my life and cling to an image of me that is no longer valid because that image was stronger and more 'fit' and ultimately more desirable.
So while I achieve a greater understanding of my own interactions with human instincts I'm no farther separated from them than I was before.
I just want to reclaim that image, no longer valid, of who I was just a couple of years ago. He was tall, straight-backed, strong, and confident. How do I get back there? How do I survive this disability with my self-image intact? How do you appeal to someone's prurient senses with a plastic tube stuck to your nose?
To me they are a far different and definitely less appreciated sign of living. Much the same as scars from past injuries but without the desirable nature or attractive qualities. I feel this is probably a universal view of the two; I've never had someone say damn that oxygen tank makes you look sexy.
And, continuing to drift along, I wondered why this dichotomy might be true. Why could scars be seen as attractive, even sexy, but other signs of injury, wheelchairs for example, would not.
It dawned on me that we as a species are not so far removed from our more primitive instincts as we'd like to think we are. We simply have more complex languages to describe our interactions with these instincts.
Scars, for instance, show us someone who survived an injury and is (presumably) none the worse for wear thus indicating a possibly higher quality set of genes (able to heal from injury without lasting physical effect). We might perceive, perhaps completely subconsciously, that this person with scars is strong and 'fit' in the Darwinian sense and thus is desirable.
An oxygen tank or a wheelchair, however, implies grevious injury one was not able to overcome and indicates a present infirmity, thus showing the person as less strong or 'fit', again possibly completely subconsciously.
I was thinking about a post made by a friend in the recent past talking about weakness and our desire to prevent others from seeing our weaknesses. It was a poignant post and spoke to me rather directly concerning how I feel about my health. I'll never be fully comfortable around others when I have to use an oxygen tank or a wheelchair because it is weakness displayed. There's no way to conceal the faults they imply and no way to raise your appeal to those around you beyond a certain, very low ceiling.
I'd like to believe I'm not vain, but who am I kidding? While my vanity may not be a pronounced as some more notable individuals I still want to be seen as a desirable individual. Being single and feeling a tug to be amorous (after all, Spring is coming) it makes it much harder to accept the accoutrements of disability with grace.
Rather I feel like a 4 year old who was just told he couldn't have a cookie and is now pouting in a corner somewhere because it isn't fair. I resist that I must have these things in my life and cling to an image of me that is no longer valid because that image was stronger and more 'fit' and ultimately more desirable.
So while I achieve a greater understanding of my own interactions with human instincts I'm no farther separated from them than I was before.
I just want to reclaim that image, no longer valid, of who I was just a couple of years ago. He was tall, straight-backed, strong, and confident. How do I get back there? How do I survive this disability with my self-image intact? How do you appeal to someone's prurient senses with a plastic tube stuck to your nose?