When I was home in October, my mom was showing me the scar from her recent abdominal surgery and it made me recollect how when I was little and we would all be chilling on the big bed after dinner, I would examine her stomach and she would tell me the different stories that go along with its various scars.
The stories are these:
Having been stabbed at a bus stop back before the Mission got gentrified (+1 scar),
she was rushed to the hospital and fixed up with some more incisions and tubes (+2 scars).
A few years later, she bore Big Sister, then me, then Little Sister (+stretching).
Then this year she had a little bit of cancer removed (+3 scar),
which they would not have found out about until too late if it were not for the fact that she had gotten stabbed some thirty years previously and had some scar tissue from that that was acting up.