Graduating high school made me feel like the summer of 2017 was going to be the best one yet. I had the world in my hands and I was working two well-paying jobs. What more could I possibly need?
As soon as life was going great, something bad was bound to happen. You guessed it: It did get bad... And quickly. On July 14 of 2017, I was in an accident by myself. I'm not exactly sure what happened. I blacked out and don't remember (thankfully). All I know is that my stay at the hospital was supposed to be one week, then two, then three, and then, it finally was finished after four weeks and nine surgeries.
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If you don't know what a skin graft is, then let me explain it to you. Basically, it's a solution for extremely bad burns or lacerations that are too big to be closed on their own or with stitches. The surgeons will use a tool similar to a cheese grater and take the first few layers of skin from your thighs or butt. Mine was only taken from my right thigh. Then, your skin is put through a machine that puts holes in it, then it's able to cover more surface area. After, it is placed on your wound. A vacuum, called a Wound-Vac, is placed on it for a week. That helps it heal and make sure that it doesn't get infected.
Yes, it's as painful as it sounds.
I thought my leg would only have a scar where it was cut, but it didn't go as I had hoped. The laceration on my lower leg was too deep and too bad to close. My skin had died and needed to be removed. I had a sponge in my leg and a vacuum attached for three weeks.
To sum it all up, my summer was ruined and I wasn't sure if I could even attend my first semester of college.
At first, I was told that I would have a six-month recovery period before I could return to sports. It took me three days until I could walk on my own. It was with a little limp and a bit slow, but hey — the crutches were gone. It took me three more days until I began jogging again. Then, after two more, I could sprint. I was doing something impossible. I was bedridden for an entire month — how was this happening?
Obviously, it was great to be walking and active again. However, I was devastated that my leg was going to look like this for the rest of my life. It took me ten months to stop hiding in my clothes. I refused to wear shorts and skirts. I was so self-conscious that someone would stare at me if I wore what I wanted. It took baby steps for me to be comfortable in my own skin again.
I began by wearing shorts and wrapping it in an ace bandage so that it wasn't as noticeable. Then, I moved to wear a romper with high sandals that mostly covered it, yet people still stared. I didn't know what I needed to do to be comfortable. I decided to take time away from social media to analyze my own thoughts.
I did some self-exploration to figure out what I wanted to get out of life: Happiness. I spent time talking to new people to change my mindset. I'm lucky to be alive, and that's the most important thing. I get to live and I didn't die that night. I can comfortably post my leg around on social media. I can FINALLY wear shorts, skirts, and dresses around campus, the way I want.
I don't ask for pity when I tell others what I have been through. I am strong and I now realize that I have accomplished the unexplained and the almost-impossible. These dark times proved to everyone, including myself, how strong and resilient I am.
I am covered in scars from this incident. They tell a story. And I am beautiful.
