Disfigured

I am sure everyone has heard about my accident on the 9th. I can't even begin to tell you how many emotions I am having about the whole ordeal. I fear that they won't find a reason for it. Okay, fine, I know people faint, but looking back I have quite a history of it. This is the first time I have been hurt though. Not only hurt, but disfigured.

I am not trying to be vain, but when the plastic surgeon took my stitches out on Friday, I just about lost it. It was not at all what I was expecting. He didn't want to let me look at it, as he said it would not make me feel better, only worse. Well, that's a great sign. Well, after inspecting it in the hand mirror, I wanted to throw it against the wall. He couldn't believe it hadn't healed better, so he taped it tight and told me to leave it that way for another week. It is horrible, and I honestly don't know when I will ever be able to look at myself in the mirror without crying again.

I am sick of carrying around this heart monitor, I am sick of waiting for doctors to call me back, and I am sick of everyone telling me it wont be that bad. It's not your face, it's mine. And now I have to learn to accept it for what it is.