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.
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.
