A personal reminder can be helpful, however, the issue is that even when it's all behind him that scar could be a reminder to everyone he meets of what he used to be.

This is an interesting note, and one that never really registered for me. I've got an identical scar to OP. I've never recreationally used or been addicted to IV drugs, though. In my case, the scar is the result of the many, many blood draws that I received as a teen before the insertion of, and then after the removal of, my central line (I had cancer).

I wonder how many people who have seen it assumed I was a recovering/recovered addict.

It's not something anybody's ever mentioned, nor has anybody ever behaved in such a way as to make me suspect they've drawn conclusions about it--well, with one notable exception that I've always attributed to the gestalt of my appearance at the time*. I probably benefit from common fallacies and stereotypes about drug users by not looking and living like people's idea of an IV drug user, which would reduce others' odds of drawing that conclusion, too. There are no doubt a hundred factors that work in my favour.

Which isn't to say that nobody ever does draw conclusions; I could simply be oblivious to 100% of instances. But if they have, it certainly hasn't prevented me from doing quite well professionally.

By the way, I do work in the medical/mental health field, on the research end. I'm a scientist (PhD). I do habitually wear short sleeves. I have never once detected an iota of concern from colleagues about my scar(s). None have ever given me the impression that they suspect that I have past experience with drug use. And frankly, I strongly suspect that those working in the medical field are less likely to view your history as negatively as the general public does. Mental health, in particular, is a field that draws a lot of people with past and current mental health issues precisely because that experience is revelatory in terms of how crippling and difficult these illnesses are to treat.

I don't think that every person who recovers from trauma, illness, what have you, has a moral obligation to be a crusader. However, I do think that if you can stomach the bad that goes along with it, being a living breathing reminder that recovery is possible goes a long way to helping dispel bias and stigma. When those in the throes of illness are all too visible, and those who've recovered disappear invisibly into the general population, it obscures the fact that we're surrounded by people who've lived through hard times and come out the other end to rebuild their lives into something great.

Anyway, I wanted to reply to let you know that your scar isn't unique to those who've struggled with IV drug use, and to offer you an (anecdotal) example of how little having such a scar has obviously impacted my personal or professional life. I wish you the best in your recovery, and in your studies.

• This was shortly after being discharged following my first round of chemo. I was 13, pale and rail thin, and had shaved my head in response to the considerable hair loss. I still had just enough hair remaining that it looked more like a fashion statement, though (my eyebrows and eyelashes were still in place at that point). It was summer and I'd gone to the video rental store with my friend in my usual uniform of tank top, baggy corduroy pants, and chain wallet. And the disapproving horror with which the elderly couple that we ran into there looked at me is one I'll never forget--not because it hurt me, but because of the swell of indignant anger I felt at being on the receiving end of some old assholes' assumptions about my personal worth because of how I looked. My friend and I were perfectly well behaved and all smiles; it had been a long time since we'd had the opportunity to be out and playing together. The elderly couple weren't judging me by my behaviour, but by the visual "evidence" of my delinquency and poor moral substance.

It was a first for me--a cute, private-school-attending white girl from a financially comfortable family.

I was sorely tempted to lead my conversation with my friend in the direction of my cancer treatment, and thereby throw those ugly glares back at my "betters" by revealing that I was a chemo kid and they were, in fact, complete assholes for trying to shame a child they knew nothing about. Ultimately, though, I held my tongue and instead doubled-down on being polite and cheerful.

I don't think I understood at the time why I made the decision not to correct their assumption, and I still wonder whether I made the right choice. I'm sure calling them out would have been justice boner material, but really, I'm not convinced that it would have done anything to alter their assumptions--only teach them not to reveal them publicly. By telling them I wasn't an addict, they'd be more circumspect about concluding that somebody was one, but would remain thoroughly entrenched in their certitude that their mistake was one of identification, not the conclusions they drew as a result. Better, perhaps, to gift them with the memory of hating a happy and well-behaved kid on sight because she looked like their idea of a bad apple.