The Scar: Its Origin

Even as I lay on my bed looking for, no begging for inspiration on what to write, the noise of the fan twirling above my head catches my attention. “What if the fan falls down now?” This scary thought besets my mind. However,as scary as this thought is, it isn’t far from the reality I have experienced.
Let me share my story with you:
” It was the 18th day of September 2011 when during church service, a fan fell down and cut me at the side of my mouth,towards my jawline, just beneath my lips.
Trust me, this incident cannot be erased from my memory. The fan cut wasn’t as painful as the tears on the face of my sister was. People’s stare right in the middle of service made me feel alien. I didn’t know I had been cut by a fan until the fan finally landed on the floor. It was then that I was able to connect the dots…the stares, my sister’s tears and the landing fan.
That was when my own tears began. It was uncontrollable. I was filled with the fear of being ugly, deformed by the fan cut. This fear was founded on the ground that I could feel my teeth through the injury. I thought of different scary images of myself that would emerge as the aftermath of the fan cut.
The school nurse didn’t help matters as the plaster dressing made the injury feel worse. I was not to look at the mirror to see the size of my injury,she said. I concurred. After all, I was afraid of my own fears being true.
I can’t forget the pains of having Eusol water(or so), hydrogen peroxide and Iodine applied on my wound at every new dressing. It took about a month plus before the plaster dressing was finally removed. Before then, I could not wash my face easily and thoroughly, I couldn’t talk as frequently as I wanted, I couldn’t even laugh freely as the wound pains would start. I had no freedom then.
And finally, I do not remember  the exact date the plaster was removed,but I do remember seeing a tiny scar on my face. Oh! What joy! It was a great relief to my worried heart.”

This is the story of how I got a scar from a fan cut. As I finish writing this story, the fan is still twirling above my head and I imagine if I can go through all that experience again. Of course not! I wouldn’t like that.
However, I’ll leave the fan to its freedom. Let it turn, let it twirl, let it do the job it was meant to. For it has brought me inspiration!

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2 Replies to “The Scar: Its Origin”

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