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March 2003 Read the whole story by clicking the links below: [ Chapter One - I found myself on my butt in the dirt ]
Chapter Two - The gift and healing of friendship. I awoke the next morning with a start. Like you do from a nightmare, and just for a moment I thought it had all been just a bad dream. Then my aching body assured me that it had not, and I admonished myself for my stubbornness at refusing any painkillers. I ached in places I didn't know existed. As I tried to move, I caught my breath as pain shot through my shoulder, hip and leg. I moved slowly, and walked to the mirror. I stared blankly at the reflection, disbelief a kind tranquilliser. I felt like one of those two sided clowns - one side perfect, with a half painted smile, and the other side a painted frown. Deep down, I silently wished I could just wash away the newly formed scabs, like a clown would be able to wash away his painted make-up. In that moment I thought about the innocence of my youth. The complete innocence and total acceptance of the beauty that had always reflected back. The fact that I had always taken for granted and never considered the beauty and perfection of my face and body, didn't make me feel any better. I walked through to the lounge and into an argument of mass proportion. My mother, stepfather and brother were arguing about me. There was a pause as three sets of eyes turned my way. I wasn't ready to deal with the questions or concerns reflected in their eyes, and so mumbled a hasty greeting, and headed for the bathroom. I closed and locked the bathroom door, to try and block out my mothers barrage of questions. I took a shower and reapplied the sulphur powder. Dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and loose fitting pants, despite the 30 degree temperatures, and felt a little more confident to face the world. My mother was mad. How could I do this? How I could I let this happen to myself? How could I be so stupid? My stepfather and brother were noticeably absent, and I knew I had to cope with my mother's agitation and the following doctors appointment on my own. My doctor was pleased with the last 24 hours of healing. The plastic surgeon suggested, that we allow a 6 week healing period before the damage could be accessed and a course of action decided. I was thankfully allowed to get on with my life. For a few days anyway. What came next was my salvation. My boyfriend came looking for me. The shock in everyone's expressions when they saw me for the first time with the newly formed scabs on my face and body, was noticeable absent in his eyes. He told me he missed me, was bored without my company, gave me hug and said it was time to come out and enjoy the world again. He filled my world with activity for the next 4 weeks. We went to all the dances, although with only 12 teenagers we spent more time chatting then dancing. Our small group of friends - ten guys and two girls - me being one of the girls, followed his example, and stopped staring at me in disbelief, and slowly our old camaraderie was re-established. We hiked, played sport, lazed by the pool, braaied and watched videos. We explored the surrounding koppies for caves and waterfalls, tromped through the streams and shouted arguments at the baboons. When the others in the group went horse riding and exploring on dirt bikes, he taught me how to drive. I was strictly forbidden to climb onto a bike motorised or otherwise, and horses were included. That was one of the conditions of me being allowed out of the boundaries of my fenced garden. My boyfriend argued that driving a car with 4 wheels had not been on my mother's list, so I learnt how to drive on the back roads of his farm. When the scabs on my face started coming off, and I was once again able to eat and speak properly, my friends even started to help me to see the funny side of what happened. They made me talk about the moments of the accident. How one minute I was riding down the road on a bicycle and the next I was flying through the air. My friend who had seen the event, explained how I had somersaulted over the handlebars, curled into a ball, landed and bounced on the ground. My face and shoulder taking the brunt of the road edge, the force of which allowed the gravel and tar to imbed in my soft skin. They teased me about my recklessness, they kindly admonished me about the speed I had been travelling on a bicycle, and subtly reminded me that they cared for me. They helped me work through my anger at my mom, and allowed me the space to heal physically and emotionally from the whole episode. They helped me to cry, they helped me to laugh and they formed a protective circle that cacooned me, one I only began to appreciate and miss once I returned to school. A few days before I was to return to boarding school, I had my final appointment with the doctor. The newly healed skin was pink and somewhat mottled. There was still some scabs where the skin needed to heal, and a course of treatment was prescribed to help the scars heal. My doctor was amazed at the speed I had healed. He was further amazed that the physical scarring was somewhat less then he had anticipated. I had a choice of plastic surgery to my shoulder, to remove and cover the deep scarring and some sort of scrapping to my face all of which could only be done 4-6 weeks from then. The consensus was that I would return to school, follow the treatment and return for an appointment 4-6 weeks later. I had a list of do's and don'ts and promised to follow them. I was happy and confident and feeling like my old self, ready to return to school and enjoy my life. The good-byes that were said were bittersweet. Although, my friends and I had done the whole good-bye thing a few times before, somehow this time was harder, and we all agreed that we had spent a magical summer. My accident had formed a bond in our group that was deeper and closer then anything we had experienced before. My boyfriend kissed me for the first time that day as we said good-bye. It was my first kiss and one I remembered for a long time. It was a soft gentle kiss, as there were still some scabs around the side of my mouth. We laughed at our expectations and how a normal teenage flirtation took a perverse twist. We laughed at how we had spent the summer just holding hands, and talked about what a special gift that had been, as we had really gotten to know each other. He reminded me about how special I was, and asked me to remember that special beauty I had inside. We promised to write to each other as we were going in opposite directions, and our weekly allowance did not cover the cost of phone calls. I suppose in retrospect that summer of healing was a gift I would treasure to help me to cope with what was to come next, because I could never of imagined what was to follow. Read the whole story by clicking the links below: [ Chapter One - I found myself on my butt in the dirt ]
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