The little baby girl sat quietly in the corner of the sofa where her mother knew she would be safe. She wasn’t quite big enough to play alone with her brother and sister. There was something different about this little baby girl; she wasn’t like her brother and sister. She held onto her bottle and never once moved from her stop until her mommy came to check on her an hour later. She was still in the same spot her mommy had put her. She was such a good little girl.
When the little girl was two years old she was allowed to play in the sandbox in the back yard. She could only play there by herself because the other children would throw sand at her and make her cry. The little girl didn’t know why the other children treated her so badly… she just wanted to play with her siblings. When she did get to play in the sand, she would build little mountains with her small bucket and shovel.
One early summer afternoon the little girl was playing alone in the sandbox when her mommy came to get her for lunch. After eating the peanut butter and jelly sandwich her mommy put her down for her afternoon nap. She was such a good little girl. She always did what her mommy had told her to do. Sometime later that afternoon when her mommy came to check on her, the little girl was foaming from her mouth. Her mommy called her daddy and they took her to the hospital.
At the hospital the little girl’s parents were told that she had a severe case of pneumonia. She would have to be hospitalized and given mass doses of penicillin. They didn’t know how long she would have to stay, only saying that the little girl was very sick. The little girl was placed in a crib at the hospital. She began to cry because she wanted to be with her mommy. She cried harder as she watched her mommy walking away until she was completely out of her sight.
The crib was white and positioned close to a window so she could see outside and look down at the cars below. The little girl’s tears finally subsided and as time went by the little girl was standing up in the crib making big circles on the white headboard with a colored crayon a nurse had laid in the crib. She longed for her mommy to cradle her but she was still to sick to go home. Many years later the little girl found out that she had been near death and that the doctors gave her only 72 hours to live if the medication did not work. The doctor called a specialist from Philadelphia to help save the little girls life.
Several years later the little girl was old enough to start school but first she had to have her current shots. Her mommy took her to the doctor and she received all the shots required for her to start kindergarten. She was such a good little girl… she didn’t make a peep when the doctor gave her the medication. The little girl loved going to school but she always came home crying because the other kids teased her. She did not understand why the other kids teased her and made fun of her. She knew she was different but she did not understand.
The teasing continued as she went from First then Second Ward, Schull David and finally Mahoning Elementary School. The kids continued teasing her throughout her elementary school years. She didn’t have any friend’s at school because everyone teased her. During recess she would ask her teachers if there was something she could do to help because she knew that no one would play with her. All her teachers were nice to her so she enjoyed erasing the chalk board or doing the little monotonous things that helped the teachers through her elementary years.
The little girl came from a very poor family and there were lots of brothers and sisters. Her mommy had her hands full taking care of seven little kids. The little girl had an older brother and sister, a younger sister and three younger brothers. The kids wore each others clothes, and this particular little girl wore her older sister’s hand- me-downs. She always looked like a rag-a-muffin and she didn’t even know that she did. She was sad that she didn’t get the nice new clothes her older sister always got but she was happy with what she had to wear.
When the preteen girl entered junior high the teasing got worse. The kids would call her names and often times the teachers would have to tell them to stop the teasing. One day in the counselor’s office, the girl asked why the kids would tease her so badly. The nice lady counselor told her that the kids teased her because she had a birthmark (otherwise known as a port-wine stain) on the right side of her face. That explained why the kids called her “diaper rash” and “purple face” girl. When the girl got home from school that day she asked her mom why she had that mark on her face and her mom told her she was born with it and that it made her special. Nothing else was ever said about that “special” mark.
Seventeen days before her thirteenth birthday, her mom had a baby girl. Her mom told her that she could come to the hospital when she was released and hold the baby in the back seat for the drive home. Oh how she loved her baby sister. Often times she would make believe that her baby sister was really her baby. She was so happy. For the very first time in her life… she had something that no one could take away from her. She had someone to love and through this little baby she would be loved in return. She was so proud to help take care of her baby sister anytime her mom needed help.
As the teenage girl entered senior high school for the first day of her 9th grade education she approached her older brother who was surrounded by other boys his age. One of the boys shouted out “who in the world is she… she looks like she just got ran over by a Mac truck.” She ran away crying to the bathroom because her brother laughed with the other boys. Her experience in high school was the same as she had in junior high only at a much more cruel level.
During her four years of high school, she made several friends but she never had a best friend. Friends came and went as the four years rolled by. She had a couple older, a few her age and several younger friends. During her senior year she missed 38 days of school. She recalls being called diaper rash often by several of the boys that were in her senior class. She couldn’t wait to graduate from high school. No one asked her to go to the senior prom or outing and she never dated anyone she went to school with. She had an occasional date but nothing was ever serious.
In her heart all she really wanted was that “fairytale” marriage with a house, a white picket fence and at least a half a dozen babies. That would never happen for her or for anyone she ever knew. She was a hard worker… started working at a sweatshop shortly after turning sixteen. Within three months she had advanced to floor girl. She was energetic, enthusiastic and labored six days a week at the sweatshop. After cashing her paycheck each Friday she gave all but twenty dollars to her mom to help pay for things the family needed that the food stamps would not pay for. She worked as a floor girl at the sweatshop until her family packed up and moved to another state.
She chose to move with her family out of state because she was so close to her mom. When they arrived at there destination, she began doing all the house chores and even managed to do some yard work. Other families nearby saw the kind of work she would do and soon she was doing things to help other families in the neighborhood. Often times she would see pity in many of the people’s faces she encountered. It was apparent by there constant stares. She would hang her head in shame and do her business. She was very shy and embarrassed by how she was treated. She just knew she was different.
TIME WAITS ON NO ONE….
I tell this story because it is about me. I am that baby girl who sat in the corner of the sofa with my bottle and never moved from my stop. I am the little girl who played in the sandbox by herself. I am the little girl who nearly died from pneumonia. I am the little girl who has seven siblings. I am the little girl that was teased day after day, week after week, month after month, and year after year about the birthmark (port-wine stain) on the right side of my face. It covered my entire right cheek from my nose to my hairline and from my right eye down to my upper lip. I live with permanent scars inside of me from the torment that others caused me for the first eighteen years of my life.
I have had five laser surgeries since 1996 to have the birthmark removed. The first laser treatment cost me $1000. It was also the only one that I had the most unbelievable pain you could ever imagine having without taking one aspirin. During my consultation with the doctor she said that the pain would be minimal, more of a minor inconvenient pain that would only last for a few short hours, that there would be minimal swelling and that it would feel like a rubber band hitting my skin. She also stated that I would be able to wear make-up after five days of recovery time. Because she said it was virtually painless minus the few short hours of minor inconvenience I agreed to have the laser surgery under those terms.
Have you ever taken a rubber band or has anyone ever slung a rubber band and hit you in the face? It is far more painful then anyone might realize. I was zapped 256 times with the laser gun. Half-way through the first surgery I was literally in tears. I had goggles on but the tears fell anyway and everyone in the room saw that I was flinching and crying due to the severity of the pain as the doctor gave me another zap. I laid there without saying a word until she finally said she was finished. That was one of the most painful twenty minutes of my life and I laid there and let her do that to me. Till this day I can’t believe I paid her cash for that torture! When I returned home, I put ice on my wound. Little did I know that I would literally burn for three entire days and swell until I could not see out of my right eye. I kept ice on my wound for 72 straight hours. The doctor said I would have minimal pain and swelling. She was so wrong; I couldn’t wear make-up for 2 weeks. The results were 30% removal of my birthmark.
The only thing I failed to do was actually ask someone who had had that type of surgery if they experienced any pain. The doctor had plenty of before and after pictures of dozens of people. The results looked promising. I was the only one who had a birthmark (port-wine stain) on my cheek under my right eye from nose to hairline and down to upper lip. Depending on the location of the birth mark, laser surgery has different levels of pain. The doctor was clearly in the wrong for telling me I would have minor pain and swelling. When I tried to contact her over the weekend on her pager I could never get through. Finally that Sunday, three days into burning, pain and swelling she called me back telling me that her young child had gotten a hold of her pager and turned it off. How convenient was that for her.
In 2002, after years of searching, I found a dermatologist who said she would try to do laser surgery on me at the cost of $150 dollars per treatment. (Due to the off-chance the laser surgery would not work on me.) I told her my story about what had happened in 1996 and she promised me that the machines were new and improved and that I would have less than 50 zaps to my face, minimal pain and swelling and I would see results within 30 to 60 day. I have since had 3 other treatments and my birthmark is not 70% gone. Sadly, the scars remain. Even thought my birthmark is 70% gone… I still see all of it. Instead of it helping me… It has made me feel more uncomfortable about looking at myself in the mirror. I am no longer that same face in the mirror. I see pain and marred scars.
Everyday is a new beginning for me… I am trying desperately to reach out to others. It is very easy to do so behind this vast computer screen. You can’t see me therefore, you can’t judge me. You won’t stare back at me and you won’t whisper to others about me. You can’t because I won’t allow you to do that to me. I am the Mystified Spirit looking for hearts to love me unconditionally. You can do that because you can’t see me. This is a good thing. For now… it works for me.
No comments:
Post a Comment