As a child, I was fascinated by a small circular scar on my mother’s upper arm. It looked deliberate, symbolic—like it carried a story I didn’t understand. I eventually forgot about it, until years later when I noticed the exact same scar on an elderly woman’s arm while helping her off a train.
The sight jolted me. This wasn’t unique to my mother. It was shared.
When I asked my mother, she reminded me she’d explained it before. The scar was from the smallpox vaccine.
Smallpox was once one of humanity’s deadliest diseases, killing millions and leaving survivors scarred or blind. Its defeat came through a global vaccination effort using a method that intentionally left a visible mark—a blister that healed into a permanent scar. That scar wasn’t a side effect; it was proof of protection.
By 1980, smallpox was eradicated worldwide. For those vaccinated before the 1970s, the scar became a quiet badge of survival and collective effort.
What once seemed mysterious now feels powerful. That small mark is history carried on the body—a reminder of what science, cooperation, and persistence can achieve.
