WhitneyTo Be or Not To Be a Mother -Part Three
May 24th 2007 16:33
When I came home I didn’t cry to my father. He didn’t believe in crying. At least not for me. But I did call up my husband and I cried to him. I cried because I thought I was going to lose the only thing other than my hair (I’m a redhead) that made me special (I was fairly decent looking). Though I’d never seen leprosy, the way the burns looked when the blisters opened, I imagined they couldn’t have been that far off. There was so little skin left. And it was most of the right side of my face.
My husband may not have gone to the doctor with me. He may not have been there when I got home but what he did do after that was get me a great plastic surgeon (a recommendation from a someone he knew).
The next day he sat with me in the plastic surgeon’s waiting room until I was called in. Also in the room was a little girl and her mother. She must have been about 4 or 5. She kept staring at me. Finally she spoke loud and clear. “Mommy, what’s wrong with that ladies face?” she asked. I felt like a freak. Like not only was the world going to judge me for being a bad mother and getting it wrong all the time but now they would all point and stare at my deformed face as well.
By the time the time I was taken into an exam room I knew I’d have to learn to live with it. Like everything else in my life that had not gone as I had hoped and dreamed I’d learn I had no other choice than to accept it. It is what it is. So when the doctor came in and immediately came over to exam me I knew he was going to tell me there was nothing he could do to make it better.
But I was wrong. And so was that other doctor. According to this plastic surgeon, burns to the skin on the face usually heal the best (not the worst like that other plastic surgeon said). I couldn’t help it, I had to cry. Happy tears. Then, like the other doctor he told me I’d have to scrub the wounds 3x a day until they bled to prevent additional scarring and bacteria. And yes it would be very painful, but no I didn’t have to be a complete hero about the pain. Take 900 mg. of Advil an hour before each scrubbing and that would help dull some if it.
Then he smiled, told me not to worry and to make a follow-up appointment. And this time I did.
My husband may not have gone to the doctor with me. He may not have been there when I got home but what he did do after that was get me a great plastic surgeon (a recommendation from a someone he knew).
The next day he sat with me in the plastic surgeon’s waiting room until I was called in. Also in the room was a little girl and her mother. She must have been about 4 or 5. She kept staring at me. Finally she spoke loud and clear. “Mommy, what’s wrong with that ladies face?” she asked. I felt like a freak. Like not only was the world going to judge me for being a bad mother and getting it wrong all the time but now they would all point and stare at my deformed face as well.
By the time the time I was taken into an exam room I knew I’d have to learn to live with it. Like everything else in my life that had not gone as I had hoped and dreamed I’d learn I had no other choice than to accept it. It is what it is. So when the doctor came in and immediately came over to exam me I knew he was going to tell me there was nothing he could do to make it better.
But I was wrong. And so was that other doctor. According to this plastic surgeon, burns to the skin on the face usually heal the best (not the worst like that other plastic surgeon said). I couldn’t help it, I had to cry. Happy tears. Then, like the other doctor he told me I’d have to scrub the wounds 3x a day until they bled to prevent additional scarring and bacteria. And yes it would be very painful, but no I didn’t have to be a complete hero about the pain. Take 900 mg. of Advil an hour before each scrubbing and that would help dull some if it.
Then he smiled, told me not to worry and to make a follow-up appointment. And this time I did.
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