5 hours, 5 miles from home, 5 in the morning, 5 days in a hospital. An 18 inch scar trickles down my spine trying its best to stay hidden under my clothes. With every outfit comes a check, making sure that the light brown scratch I will never get rid of stays unknown. each day being reminded of why I am different from most other kids my age, high school teens whose lives move in fast motion. So how could it feel like only mine came to a screeching halt, like a mother stopping her kid from crossing the road in fear that a car would come by. just as the tire marks would be on the road, i have what feels like a permanent tire mark on my body. 

The ear-piercing beeping of hospital machines flooding my 15 year old brain. Countless hours spent googling every possible question that popped into my head. “how long does recovery take?” “what kind of metal do they use?” “spinal fusion scar photos”. All the while wondering what I could’ve done to deserve to bear a weight so mentally heavy but physically weightless. 

a place that is so quiet but feels like the never-ending IVs are screaming to help me. the washed white walls of my temporary room, next to the dreaded scale, fail to quiet the never-ending, overflowing stream of questions; "are you okay" "what can I do to make you feel better?". no question asked aloud was as loud as the question in my head, " what did I do to deserve this, why couldn't it be someone else?" As much hate as I had for this room, I knew worse rooms were to come just hours later in the day. The operating room, filled with hundreds of tools, 7 strangers I didn't know, and one scared girl. Later moving to the ICU, alone by myself only to be greeted by the star pattern on the ceiling tiles and an ill mannered nurse. 

Laying unconscious on the creaky old hospital bed is a ghostly pale girl with a face as puffed up as a balloon about to burst. Just 36 short hours before I was on the prom dance floor with all of my friends, filled up to the brim with joy; but also filled with a persistent pain in my lower left back. Once being a ray of sunshine, i now gave off as much shine as a raincloud in a violent storm. Physically my body was entirely redesigned from shoulderblade to tailbone, almost like a little boy getting into his dads toolbox for the first time; 16 pointy screws and 2 perfectly tailored titanium rods. A girl who now has such perfect posture that it becomes her favorite thing about herself, only if it was covered by normal looking skin.

12 short months later it is overwhelming to reflect back on. With each morning comes a routine, my green eyes open, brush my teeth, and check for the one thing I know will always be there. Heartwrenching photos pop up on my phone, reminding me of the pains but also the joy that comes along with my perfectly straight scar. Every single pain free shift that I work reminds me of the love-hate relationship of what I will always carry.