Unpretty

Unpretty - 9

 I wake up with bright lights blinding my eyes.  I see white everywhere. 

This isn’t my room.  Where am I? 

Then it all comes back to me.  I am in one of the recovery rooms. 

Not long ago they told me they can’t perform surgery on my face.

Everything they said reverberates through my mind.

They cannot perform the surgery and no other surgeon can do anything either. 

Other surgeons will come up with the same conclusion as they and the other center have.

Nobody will dare risk my life and their profession for this.

The other center has done enough.  It is fatal to go on.

Tears begin to fall from my eyes but I wipe them away just as they start to fall.

You’d think I should be used to failure by now and maybe I am used to it. 

The things that I want to escape from are the feelings that failure brings.

It’s like standing outside on a bright sunny day and then just as you start to smile, rain comes pouring and the skies turn to grey. 

That feeling when you’re all hopeful and looking forward to something and you truly believe it’s going to be different.

Then it turns out to be much worse than the last time and it hurts even more.

For once I want things to be different.  For once I want to be able to do it my way.

I fling the covers to the floor and sit.  I put on my shoes and grab my purse.  I walk towards the door and open it slightly.  Two doctors are just outside my door.  I hear them talking.

I gave her something to calm her nerves.  She will be awake soon. 

I think it’s best that we called him.  She needs to see a psychologist.  That way we can understand her better.  She’s obviously not ready for this. The way she acted was just too extreme.

I’m not mentally ill.  I don’t need to talk to some psychologist, I say.

They both look in my direction, a startled look in their faces.

The lady doctor reaches out to me and asks me how I’m feeling.

I tell her I feel fine and I would like to go home now. 

They say the doctor will be arriving soon and it is best for me to talk to him.

Seeing a psychologist doesn’t mean you’re ill.  We just feel that you need some guidance in coping with this situation. This is for your own welfare. Please.

I say no but they are adamant.  There's no point in arguing when I'm stuck in this place, the argument will just go on forever. 

I agree and say I’ll wait inside the recovery room until the doctor arrives.  And with that, they leave me on my own.

As soon as I was sure there was no one outside on the hallway, I leave the room and walk casually towards the reception area. 

The nurse sees me and calls my name but I ignore her and continue to walk.

I reach the doors and almost run outside towards my car.

I immediately pull out and drive away from there.

There’s no way I’ll speak with that psychologist.

I don’t need anyone to analyze everything I say and do.  

I don’t need anyone telling me what’s wrong with me.

I know exactly what’s wrong;

that’s my face and their stupid opinions, nothing more.