Olive oil treatment for scars

25.05.2016

10;55 am, Goettingen, Germany

I am here to rediscover the habit of writing, to find the joy in doing something creative. What has inspired me to take up the pen, albeit virtual, again is the miraculous healing going on in my body at this moment. Well, the subject in discussion is my skin, on the paler side of my hand that suferred nasty knife cuts about 17 days back. The cuts healed with protection and repeated washing and applying antibacterial cream (long live Boroline!), but the marks remained. In fact, only last Sunday I realised how the indentation in my skin along the cuts was not only staring out at the world but also felt like valleys in my skin. It left me feeling very sad. I am not one to obsess over looks and appearance but these marks became an eyesore to me almost immediately.
Thus began the search for remedies to get rid of these scars, on internet of course! I am happy medicating myself for easy and comfortable recovery instead of experimenting with several household remedies. The scar removal cream, however, as it turns out, comes with a relatively high price label. 30 Euros or so for a single tube - worth looking for an alternative, at least for a short time to see if it helps. So, i started looking up home remedies and one that appealed to me (after I spotted the bottle lying in my larder) was massaging olive oil, preferably extra virgin, on the scar area and ideally leaving it on overnight. Applying twice or thrice n the day has also been recommended on certain blogs. I decided to try it out. Olive oil woud'nt harm me i figured, mummy used to massage it onto my body as i was a kid and it yielded good resutls - judging from the frequency of having it applied on me at least one every ten days or so! Now, extra virgin olive oil can also be quite pricey but I had this half a bottle leftover in my cupboard, donated to me by a visiting professor who flew back to the US. One amongst his many attractive leftovers, i must say! I started applying the oil on Monday night and viola! The very next morning the sutures showed healing signs, with the gaping valleys closing up pretty damn fast. After applying it once, massaging for three minutes and leaving it on overnight three nights now, the scars already look so much better! I can barely feel the wound lines when i run my fingers over it now.
I wish i had photographed the before images of the scars so that I could doucment this unexpectedly fast result from a "home-remedy", something i am exceptionally sceptic about in this medically advanced day and age. But if something works for me, how can I not appreciate it? I have taken a few photos today of the already better scars. It is for time to tell how they heal from now onwards.
A word of caution. As mentioned earlier, i would not have continued this method if it did not show me any results at all in about 4-5 days. I would promptly have invested in a scar treatment cream from the pharmacy if this home remedy took longer. The main reason for that is the fact that the longer you leave scars untreated, the harder they get to remove. I would not advise against trying home remedies out over a long period of time, but unless allergic to or financially unviable, I would get myself the medication. And oh! don't forget to ask the doctor if a combination of home remedies and the medicated cream is advisable, that is very very important because we do not want a bunch of nasty reactions and side effects due to a non-administered mixture of  varous chemicals - yes! guess what! every home ingredient you use also contains "chemicals", of biological origin yes but still chemicals nonetheless. Chemicals are'nt always bad for you. They are'nt always goof for you either, irrespective of their source. The air you breathe is also a chemical, the poison that makes you sick is also a chemical. So, please do not generalise and choose wisely after careful scrutiny and medical advise. Until then, the virginity of the olive oil does matter. ;) 

depression is eating into me. is it depression? i dont know. maybe it is just sadness, and a lot of disappointment. or maybe its just my selfish evil self that enjoys destryoinh itself and everything around it. i dont believe i am evil. i dont believe anyhting in me is evil. i believe i have given more than i could offer. crushed myself, my every feeling, my tears, my smiles, my every natural instinct to try and control myself. "me" ,"myself"...why is it not worth existing? if it isnt then it shouldnt. why should i have to mask it, control it? if i am not good enough for the world, why cant the world let it be so. why must i kill myself? i cry too much. i cry every day. i cry for reasons that are not reasons at all. or are they? arent they reason enough to me? is that not enough? why not? why cant these be enogh?

How much I miss you. 

Like the changing colours of the sky at dusk your memories create waves of emotions within, which I have no control on. I am distracted whenever I try to put my mind at work, or even concentrate on something that might be classified "leisure" and yet distracting myself from your memories at every action this body performs, irrespective of time, place and type, transports me to some moment we lived together. There is this action-memory link for some typical routine activities...a particular action will evoke reminiscing of the one same memory over and over again, every single time the action occurs. I plug in my laptop when it is out of charge and is blinking away threateningly and the moment the plug goes into the socket the memory returns of that extra pair of hands I borrowed for this sometimes when you were around, more so the thought of those little tiffs over whether the plug went into the socket before the wire plugged into the computer - I took the privilege of being angry with you over forgetting the sequence I preferred, it was leisurely to turn my face away from you when you were around every second of the day the clock counted. Today I wish I had spent those few minutes loving you, holding you near me to tell you I am never really angry with you, for you are simply the best. Oh! This heart aches for love, for even if only those fights and tussles were to return...but that which was "bad times" then is today too precious to have. 

No, you are not too far away...I have hopes of being with you soon. We have hopes of a lovely life together, we still are the privileged ones. An empty moment is still empty though. Memories extract melancholy breaking through the careful wraps. They take time and effort to heal, often long enough to collide with the next in line. Isn’t life too short for these nuisances? Isn’t hope just not enough to make up for lost time? The body refuses to stay on hold, melts away with the cycle of seasons, grows older without care – two springs passed now, the blossoming flowers fail to excite the second time only adding tiny insanities to the mind. Time is not infinite, every empty moment is possibility lost. A lost walk in the park, a lost summer lazing, a lost snow fight and then we have lost another chance to see the orchids grow in the shade of the tall trees...even the snow pays surprise visits, rubs it in, the time that has passed by. Hugging the computer to sleep is perhaps the only thing still off limits, but you live in the smart-phone too...it lies close to my pillow every night. The one thing countless is memories. There is a new one with every new escape I devise to cover up the emptiness. Also love, it is so tireless. And you, so full of life, so omnipresent, so wrapping me cosy in your smiles...relentlessly, all day long.  

Zap!

Ever wonder why i never turn away?

The other side is a void,

Is nothing, no option.

So, i try to move past you,

You always seem to catch up though...

And motnhs would’ve passed,

Many weak moments endured,

Before we stood face to face again,

But the time still comes,

And before you see,

The void , too, has followed me.

After all, it is only a reflection of yours,

A void to the other side of you,

A void to the other side of me.

Dear all,

The daily ritual commences once more, or should it be called “nightly” if it is something one does every night? Deciding firmly that i shall not, under any circumstances repeat it the next night, forms a part of the ritual , of course... Oh lord! How does one retrieve oneself from practices that become so integral a part of ones being that she cannot fall asleep without going through it at least once? Even though it causes pain, even though it breaks morale, it must be done. Everytime committed, the act elads to deeper levels of failure, to lower self belief, and yet i cannot do without it. Cos every single night i hope my friend will receive my call, wil return my attempts to reach out, i hope my friend will change just to see how much it matters to me, how much it saddens me. What am i to do ? i have only questions, no reflections...

Yours sincerely,

Still waiting in hope.

Red

Its a life of blood,

Red red, sweet sour,

Blended rushing sorrow,

Pain pain in the heart.

Long lost my mind,

Long ago it was,

When boiling blood,

Did stain us all.

Drenched and soaked

In the rush of time,

What’s left behind,

Ain’t worth a dime.

Pretty pretty face,

Prettier than love,

Try hide those scars,

Behind the blush.

Try rip apart

Every faded smile,

Give up, give up!

You will hear them cry!

Toss the coin,

Flip it through fire,

Its a life of blood, Red red ,sweet sour.

18 September 2010

FRUSTRATIONS

There are these somethings that are now driving me nuts. It is crazy, the way people around me are behaving. How strange that I should refer to my best buddies as “people”. These little action-reaction processes that we go through , the miniscule interactions that I still have with my now gradually fading away friends , these are the ones that make all the difference, now that they are physically so far away from me. Fear is that this distance now seems like much more than just a physical separation.

“X1” is long gone...though I’m not sure if I should call a two months break in a relationship of 11yrs “long”...but there seems to be really meek chances of her coming back. Spoke to her about medics when dadabhai was hospitalised, that is because I trust her and perhaps will always know what a wonderful person she is, but my respect for the way I lead my life does not allow me to forget that horrible session we had and go ahead and talk to her like nothing ever happened. One may call it my ego, my stupid sense of relationships, my irrational pride...but these are the same virtues or vices withstanding which I made friends like her, and they have stayed, very few in number, but have been there through the thickest and the thinnest. Today, there is almost none.

Coming to bosom friend no. 2. Perhaps one or two years less old a friend than “X1”, my dearest “X2”. Health irregularities, workload, widely differing schedules and now residence in cities separated by thousands of kilometres have always barred regular conversations or day outs together. There were times when we did not meet for over an year and yet the bond of friendship, the love only grew stronger. I met her a few months back, spent great time at her house together with her family and "X1" was there for a day too... X2 also came over to my "sole room" , my life in an apartment alone (where i spent a very valuable one year of my life) . Things looked and felt great, what more could i ask for? And then came the day when she returned to her university again and to a new life altogether it seemed. Now i dont get any updates of her life from her anymore, even if I am the one knocking at her door (metaphorically of course) day and night. Either she is busy or preoccupied or is bound by some unavoidable and unbreakable barriers from conversing or responding to my call (not necessarily a phone call). Just got to know, and thankfully from herself,even though on inquiry on my part, about a trip she made related to work. Considering her work and study is something i have always admired , it came as a bit of a surprise to hear that it was "all so sudden". Sounds like I am being really bitchy...thats exactly how detatched I am from the ones who literally kept me "alive" not just as a human being, but as a girl , into a lady, perhaps a fully grown woman as well...