Some questions do not have answers

Scarred face at 18

When I moved into my new room I noticed the the light in my room was a little bit dim. I didn't bother opening the covering to see what was going on and therefore decided to just deal with the dimness. Making myself blinder in the process. Anyway, this evening the lightbulb decided that it had had enough of serving me and decided to die off.

I climbed up, and with much difficulty managed to open the cover and found out that there was only one lightbulb installed, even though there were two sockets. Can't believe I've been suffering in twilight-like state for the past 4 months needlessly.

And I left the lid off. This is because when I was 18 (3 weeks before coming to Australia), I was sitting down in the study room in my house with my mother when suddenly what seemed like a shower of glass rained down and the next thing I felt was hot liquid running down my face. For a moment I was dazed and didn't understand what had happened but my mom next to me was going into hysterics, screaming for my dad to come now and deal with the situation.

Amusingly, my dad was watching TV at that time and didn't see what the fuss was about. He had innocently presumed that my mom had dropped a plate down the stairs and was just dramatising the situation. What was the big deal? After a few more moments of frantic shrieks and increasing hysteria, he finally concluded he better come check it out. That was when he started panicking too.

Turns out the glass covering of the light that happened to be right over my mom's head had somehow come lose and fell down, hit her head and shattered - all the pieces raining down on me. A piece of skin about 2cm long was almost sliced off my forehead and I had a deep gash at the side of my nose from my nose rest of my glasses, presumably because a piece of glass weighed it down and it pressed into my skin. Obviously, I was bleeding as if my whole face had been slashed up by some psycho killer and my dad was frantically trying to decide what to do.

Him: It's 11pm at night how are we supposed to find a plastic surgeon?! (Yes, my father thought it was serious enough to warrant plastic surgery. Remember that this is me at 18 with perfect skin with the danger of living with a potentially maimed face forever).
Mom: What?!
Him: Arggh...I'll just do it myself. *stressed*

He brought me to his clinic, stitched up the gash at the side of my nose, gingerly placed back the skin that was partially sliced (it was hanging on by about 3mm worth of skin, so my dad hoped that it would manage to stick back) and brought me home.

All through this time they didn't let me look into the mirror. All I could do was cry. And cry. And cry. In my entire life, I have never cried so much. Every time I thought about it for about up to a week after the incident, I cried. I cried to the point where I had no tears left, when all that was left in me was just hacking gasps.

I cried because I it was my face. At 18. I know some people might not realise why I took it so seriously. Some people may even think that I should just get over myself and stop being a drama queen. But this was 3 weeks before I came to Australia, desiring to make a good impresson on new friends and start a new life. At 18. When 18 is supposed to be the best year of any girl's life. Also the potential of having a scar forever was something I could not face - did not want to face. I did the only thing I could do - which was to cry.

I came to Australia with a bandage on my forehead and on my nose - which my dad warned me that I should leave on if I ever wanted my scars to heal without discoloration etc. I religiously left them on - I'm sure those who went to Trinity with me would remember. I did not want to leave them off anyway - the scars were unsightly. The bandages naturally did not make me Ms Popular either.

A few months after my hard work paid off - the scars were almost invisible. Now, three and a half years later, unless I point it out, nobody knows. But I do. However, this minor accident (in the grand scheme of things, I concede that it's minor I suppose) prepared me for what was to come - a major accident, which I may blog about sometime in the future.

Sometimes I look at my scars and wonder what would it be like if I never went through those two ordeals, if my first impression I made on people was not ,' Why do you have a bandage on your forehead?'. Yes, this sounds shallow, but it is the truth. However, I know I won't be who I am today - and I don't know if that's a good or bad thing. I guess time will tell.

Other interesting facts to note:
1. Some people actually nicknamed me 'Nelly' when I came because of my face bandages.
2. My then brand new iBook (love of my life) was also involved in the saga. The glass scratched the screen and nicked the computer as well. When I realised that I got even more hysterical, if that was possible. Up to now, the battlescars are present.
3. I have a phobia for all covered lights now. Unsurprisingly.

1 slice bread and peanut butter = 150 calories
1 bun = 100 calories
1 bowl sukiyaki udon = 700 calories
1 plate fried rice = 700 calories
Total = 1650 calories

posted by Evelyn at 7:22 PM