hope

I sat on a chair and leaned my head and shoulder against the wall. My mom stood across the room by the window, talking, but my thoughts absorbed me. All of her words were a blur. Only one thing mattered to me in that moment: getting rid of my cast.

After almost two months, the day arrived to remove the extra weight I had been carrying around. My other two surgeries happened before the age of three. Too young to really remember anything so I didn’t know what to expect. This outcome mattered to me more than the others.

“Hey there little lady. Ready to get rid of this thing?” asked Dr. Ashworth, as he walked into the room with Carrie, the nurse, behind him.

“Yes, please!” I said. “Don’t be surprised to find pencils in there. It itched a lot and I didn’t know how to scratch inside.”

Dr. Ashworth laughed, grabbed his stool and came closer. He held my hand in his to examine it. Even with my cast, the palm of his hand dwarfed mine. He grabbed his glasses from his coat pocket and put them on. Carrie handed him the scissors from the table. He pulled his glasses down a little and started cutting the cast. The scissors felt cold against my arm and my body trembled.

“Are you nervous?” Asked Dr. Ashworth.

“I shook because the scissors feel cold, but yes, I am nervous.” I said. “I’m anxious to see what it looks like.”

The cut became clearer and clearer as the cast opened up. When he fully removed it, I felt lightheaded. My mom leaned my head against her and I looked away for a moment. The sight of my arm shocked me. Stitches wrapped around my wrist along with gauze strips. The cut appeared fresh and not healed, like I expected. Colors on my skin collided: red, yellow, green and purple. A button sewn on my arm held a nerve in place. My arm felt frail.

Dr. Ashworth placed my arm on the table with a towel underneath it. I cowardly caught a second glimpse.

“Everything looks great.” He said. “Carrie will clean it off and once you’re ready, she’ll come get me.”

“Am I getting a new cast?” I asked.

“No, I’m going to make a brace and you’ll wear that for another month.” He said. “It’s a lot lighter.”

Dr. Ashworth left and Carrie held my arm to walk me over to the counter. She gently dabbed it with a warm towel and I looked at my arm, unsure of how long it would take to heal. I thought about my new scar and what it would look like. As much as I waited for this day, I felt insecure without my cast. The purpose of the surgery was to give me more confidence; something I didn’t feel.

“You’re all set.” Said Carrie. “I’m going to grab Dr. Ashworth. Once he’s done, I’ll come back in to give you a second appointment.”

I sat and waited for Dr. Ashworth to come in. I looked at my arm and wrist for a while, noticing the details of the cut and stitches. Suddenly, it didn’t seem so bad. I realized it had a purpose. All my past surgeries had eventually served their purpose and I knew this one would, too. I looked at my arm once more and reminded myself that this new scar, after all, would be another story to tell.