Short Story Challenge
- Tell the story of a scar, whether a physical or emotional one.
I chose to write about a physical scar for two reasons. The first one is that it is big and noticeable. A lot of people ask me about it. The other reason is that I have pretty much already dealt with my emotional scars, no need to go into them again.
When I was fourteen years old my mom was newly divorced and out of work. She took up babysitting as a way to pay the bills. We had four or five babies at the time. I would help out with them. One day I was carrying a little girl on my hip. I was standing in our den talking to my mom. I moved ever so slightly and put all of my weight on my right leg. Next thing I know my leg went out from under me and I was laying on the floor screaming in pain. The little girl I was holding was laying on my chest. Luckily I didn't drop her. I couldn't see my leg but I knew that it hurt and felt funny at the same time. My mom called my sister to come and get the little girl off of me. She was crying because I was crying. When my sister took her that was when I saw my knee. My leg was bent slightly and my knee cap was off to the side. If you lay down on your back and bend your leg so your knee is up in the air. Now picture your knee cap not sitting on top of your leg but slightly pushed off to one side. Yep, that's what I saw. Now at fourteen years old that is one of the scariest things you could see happening to yourself.My mom didn't know what to do so she called an old neighbor who was a nurse. She told my mom that it sounded dislocated and she should call an ambulance. My first ambulance ride. I don't remember who took care of the babies for the rest of the day. The only thing I remember was being in the emergency room for four hours. I also remember the doctors being fascinated by it because they saw them so rarely. Yes, my knee was dislocated for about three hours as we were there taking x-rays.
After the ER put my leg in a brace we went to the doctor. He explained what was going on. The muscle that goes over your kneecap is attached at the bottom to the front of the bone. Except for mine, it is attached at the side of the bone. Every time I put pressure on the muscle it makes my kneecap pop out of place. They told my mom about a surgery that could fix it. She said. “Great, she has a week off for Spring Break” Thanks, mom. They put a cast on me because the dislocation made my knee swell up. They said it should go down before the surgery. Spring break was still a couple of weeks away. When I went back to school before having the surgery I went to my P.E. Class but I couldn't dress out. We lined up while the teacher was taking attendance. He got to me and said, “Not dressing out today?” I just shook my head no. He quickly moved on to the next kid. You see I had to wear my sister's pants to school because my pants wouldn't fit over my cast. My sister was a bit bigger than me so they fit perfect for hiding the cast. You couldn't tell anything was wrong until I walked. When he was done taking roll call and getting the class playing baseball. I walked up to him. I asked him if he was going to visit me in the hospital. “Why would I do that?” he asked. I tapped on my leg with my knuckles and said: “Because I need knee surgery.” After explaining to him what was going on he put me down for a medical excuse. He never did visit me either. That was the first time I had surgery.
After the surgery, they put me in another cast. This time for six to eight weeks. I used to walk everywhere. We even went to see the USS Missouri and had to walk over a suspension bridge to get there. My two friends, my sister and I even had a car wash business that summer. I had to wrap my leg in a plastic trash bag whenever we had to wash a car. I remember I did get it wet once, just a little spot. I got the hair dryer out and it worked just fine. In fact, I walked so much that I didn't need physical therapy afterward.
The six weeks flew by pretty fast. When it was time to take the cast off the doctor grabbed the saw and I started getting scared. He smiled and said, “Don't worry, I won't cut you with this, see?” He then put the saw blade on his palm and turned it on. I felt better when I saw that he didn't cut his hand. After the cast came off my leg was so ugly. Dry skin, new scars and it was paler than my other leg. It was also weaker. The doctor then told me that I needed to get up and try walking on it. I was too scared to do that. I just kept feeling how weak it was. I thought I would fall the moment I put any weight on it. The doctor gave up trying to coax me into walking and turned around to talk to my mom. Of course, that's when I got up the courage and I would show him. I eased off the exam table and slowly put weight on it. I was standing on my own I looked over at the nurse, she was crying and smiling at me.
I ended up dislocating my left knee a few times. I was pushed off a chair and my knee popped out and then back in again on its own. The time that I kicked the bed frame. The time I slipped in a puddle of water on my kitchen floor. That time I had a brace on because my knee popped out then back in again. I was riding the bus and was sitting in the back. Sitting in the very back seat with my leg resting on the seat in front of me. The ones that sit sideways. The bus driver told me to get my foot down off the seat. So I stood up. There weren't too many people on the bus. He then told me to sit down. I told him that I couldn't sit right with this brace on my leg. He let me put my foot up on the seat again. I could see him watching me in the mirror the whole time I was on the bus.
Even though they fixed my right one my left one was not. The main problem it was left this way was due to lack of money and insurance. It was rather expensive. Believe me, I grew up listening to my divorced parents fight over the cost of it. Fast forward about twenty years and I am now married and a mom myself. With a new husband also came the perks of having insurance. We went to see the doctor in September to talk about the possibility of surgery. He wanted to look at my knees. That was fine he could look all he wanted. Then he wanted to actually touch them. “No!” I said. I actually started crying. Up to this point, I couldn't stand anyone touching my knees. I just knew how easy they would dislocate. So I wouldn't let anyone go near them. I was told that the surgery would be just like the first one. Just three little scars where they go in with the robotic arm and move the muscle over. When I woke up that was not the case. I had about twenty-five staples and an eight-inch scar on my leg. As we were leaving the hospital, my husband was telling me that my surgery was only supposed to take forty-five minutes. I was in there for a lot longer. When asked why my doctor told my husband that my muscle was almost falling off.
That's the story of my knees. I still have a few problems with them. They ache more if I sit too long. With my left knee half of it is numb. I have a hard time squatting down and I have to take the stairs down one at a time. I really hate doing that last one in public. I hate making others wait for me. I do walk with more confidence now. I know that I can walk through a puddle and I will be fine. It's been ten years since my surgery and I am no longer afraid of someone touching my knees.
Amendment: There is one other thing that I forgot about while I was writing this story. It wasn't until afterwards while I was doing laundry that I remembered. I had to reach down into the tub to get my clothes. But that is when I bend down to pick something up, I always stick my leg out straight behind me. It's a habit from wearing so many braces and casts.
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