I am proud of all of the scars life has chosen to give me (maybe not the one from burning my arm on the cooker while trying to make victoria sponge – that just hurt).

Scars tell stories. Scars signal strength. Scars remind us that life is hard, but that every time we hit a difficulty, we have the power to recover and that the memories do fade. Every scar I have makes me who I am – and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

When I came out of my hip surgery with a drain mark, a seven-inch scar and 44 holes, I thought I was pretty hard. Looking down at each mark today, I think of the moment I learned to walk again (in my parents’ kitchen), the moment I took my first post-op cycle ride and the moment I stepped back into high heels (still look a bit tipsy in anything over a centimetre so this is still a rare occurrence). Little did I know that just over six years later, there would be a few more impressive scars fighting for the top spot as a marker of life’s challenges.

With my wound care appointment and my first trip back to hospital since surgery fast approaching, I thought I’d take a moment to assess the scars that are now covering my body (don’t worry, there won’t be any photographic evidence).

1)    The tummy tuck: appropriately I think, the big tummy tuck scar is a 38cm whopper in the shape of a smile. It is glued together (open for the eyes to enjoy) and is covered in a thin sticky mesh tape, which keeps it protected and attracts every bit of fluff possible. When I look at it I smile at how flat my tummy is and how many people contributed to the chocolate fund to enable me to have the surgery. I am very lucky. I believe it will look angry for 12 to 18 months and will then be neatly tucked away under my bikini line. Nice!

2)    The drain holes: two in the abdomen and two down the right side (with a few pinholes where the stitches were). Blink and you’ll miss them! When I do locate them I think, they were painless tubes attached to sports bottles and they did a good job. Thanks drains!

3)    The belly button: Now moved to its new position (quite what they did I will never know – cut it out and dig a hole to reposition it?) it is surrounded in stitches that look like threads of cotton. I think I get a trim tomorrow when I go in! When I look at it, I laugh at the fact they went to such lengths to keep it in a normal position. They think of everything.

4)    The boob: imagine a milky mound with a saucepan-shaped scar on it. Basically, the boob skin is still the same, except for a circle where they took off the nipple (the nipple area is now a flap of skin from my missing tummy – complete with light tummy hairs). There is a line extending out from the circular scar, moving towards to the right armpit. This incision helped them reach and extract all my lymph nodes, saving me from a further scar under my arm. Currently covered in little steri-strips, I am still waiting for the big big reveal. When I think of my mound, I don’t think of what I had, I think of what I have: my life. I am grateful to those surgeons who are both trained to take the cancer away and create something that means I won’t be afraid to look in the mirror for the rest of my life. Take that cancer!

In short, it’s less Frankenstein’s monster and more a new improved me.

I read a beautiful quote earlier: ‘Scars remind you where you’ve been. But they don’t have to dictate where you’re going.’ I’d like to amend it slightly: ‘Scars remind you where you’ve been and how hard you worked to get there. They don’t have to dictate where you’re going, but they can give you the strength and determination to make sure the path you do choose is a beautiful, interesting and inspiring one.’

So make today a day to be proud of all your scars. And, if you don’t have any, start living!