It was 9:00am and she was running late. What a day for traffic to be dense! Her appointment with the surgeon was at 10am and she still needed to find parking. This day had been planned for a few weeks but it seemed like it was just that…a plan. Reality was starting to hit her as she maneuvered through the heavy traffic. In the distance she saw the outline of the hospital through the treetops. Her heart started to pound just a little harder.
She argued with her Mother this morning before leaving the house. She wanted to come along but then…what would she be able to do in the event of a problem? Her Mom could not drive and the thought of her just sitting in the waiting room for her…made her more nervous. Besides, she was in a place where if she needed medical help; well it was a hospital after all.
Refocusing on her driving, she honked her car horn at an idiot who cut her off. There was the parking structure ahead. The lot had some construction that needed to be done so she had to go slow. A spot opened up on the second floor which she promptly took. The sound of the engine died with the turn of her key. The silence in the car filled her inside. It made her tremble. Taking a deep breath, making sure that only the essentials were in her purse, she opened the car door and stepped outside.
As she walked, her thoughts touched on many things; her work, her friends, her family, her fiancé and the scar that will soon be on her face. Yes, that scar is really what was weighing her down. She had a career in modeling which was fun and earned her a financial reward. Her face was always her calling card-and now. With a deep sigh, she walked into the doctors’ waiting room.
The receptionist greeted her with a smile, took her information and directed her to a chair. All was quiet. There were patients with bandaged faces, arms-hands. A few had casts. Nervous looks were on new patients. She smiled to herself as she knew how they certainly felt! She had not been sitting for too long before her name was called. She was not ready but she followed the nurse.
The day surgery room was clean-sterile certainly had meaning here. Her vitals were taken-blood pressure. She supposed that it was the right thing to do and yes, her blood pressure was fine. As instructed she disrobed and put on the fashionable medical gown. You would think that through the years these things would get better somehow. They were certainly functional. The nurse was polite and professional yet she took the time to make her less nervous. Still, those lights above her and the sterile operating bed did nothing to relieve her anxiety. The surgeon came in, as always, a professional yet she gentle while she examined the area to be operated upon. She promised not to make the cut too long; though she was a plastic surgeon she could only promise that the scar would not be too long.
As she lay on the bed, the nurse swabbed her with sterile chemical and then covered her face with sterile towels. The nurse made sure that her eyes were protected from the bright surgical lights. Her face now covered and hidden from the lights, she started to feel a detachment; maybe this would not be so bad. Soon enough, the surgeon was injecting the area with local anesthetics. One, two, three…needle pinpricks into the skin. Four, five, six…the numbing sensation started to kick in; seven, eight injections…with that, it that was enough. The surgeon asked if she could feel anything. There was no feeling, maybe a pressure but that was it. Throughout the procedure, the surgeon spoke to her nurse and spoke with her. She felt the pulling and the tugging as the surgeon did her work on her face. She felt confidence in the surgeon’s skills. Still there was a nagging fear of a scarred appearance. Next, the cauterization of the wound on her face; the surgeon warned her that she might smell something but that would be it. Unfortunately, there was a little pain on the edge of the wound. The surgeon quickly gave her another prick or two of anesthesia-no more pain. A final tug, the surgeon pulled out the mass that had been growing under her skin. The surgeon asked if she had had this for awhile as there was a great deal of scarring under the skin and around the mass. She could tell that it had been a problem for longer than just a short time. She did not want to tell the surgeon that it had been awhile and she was afraid to come in to have it removed.
Throughout the procedure, she clearly hear the initial cut on her skin, the tugs and the pulls, the sizzle of her skin as the wound was sealed with heat, the cutting of the silk as it was cut when the sutures were completed. It was an experience and a worry.
All she thought about was how bad would the scar really be.
©2011 jan/cb
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