As I walked down the cold white hallway of Dell Children's Hospital I was so scared. A small skinny nine year old going in for surgery that would change my life. I gripped my parents' hands with all my might while I continued to stair down the endless hallway. We arrived at a room where the child life specialist and the anesthesiologist met us. The child life specialist told me the surgery would help with my seizures, and they were going to remove my thyroid - that baseball sized lump in my throat. The anesthesiologist came in with a cart and told me I could choose any flavor to smell while I was falling asleep.

“There must be 100 flavors here!” I remember thinking.

“ We have bubble gum, chocolate, orange , root beer...”

I was nervous for the surgery but I found falling asleep to the smell of root beer very exiting. I told him that I wanted root beer and he left. A nurse came in a few moments later saying “ Okay miss Sadie, now these nice two doctors are going to take you down the hall to surgery room. Afterwards, you will see your parents and be all healthy! ”

I walked back down that long, white, cold hallway not saying a word, just clutching my stuffed monkey. I was scared not knowing what was coming next or what was going to be behind the door that said 'SURGERY' in big letters . They put me on a bed and hooked me up to a bunch of cords snaked all over me, attached to my scalp and forehead. One of the surgeons hovered over me and said that my monkey was going to get the surgery also, and that we were both going to do great and he was going to be there the whole time. It made me feel warm and better about the situation, but then another one came up and put a mask over my mouth and nose. I started to smell the root beer and she told me to start counting back from 100 and so I did.

“100...99...98..97..96......” Gone, I was out cold.

Next thing I new I was waking up in a room with my parents and family an I had no thyroid. I was in so much pain, couldn't move. But one special nurse knew just how to make me feel better. One afternoon she came in to give me my meds and she told me she had a special surprise for me. She got out a blue sharpie and drew a vine of daises on my bandage across my throat. Just knowing that someone on the hospital staff took a little time out of her shift to make me feel better and make me happy warmed my heart, and made me more comfortable in the cold scary hospital. The blue vine and daises were like a piece of art on my neck, instead of a huge gash on my throat.

As soon is I was able to go home my mom made sure I was extremely comfortable. My mom made me a “princess bed” by piling pillows with me in the middle, multiple in back and on each side of me, so that any direction I rolled was soft. They gave me all the 'get well soon' cards my school class made out of colorful construction paper and sweet notes scribbled in crayon, and if my bandage art ever started to fade my parents would trace back over it a fresh Sharpie.

Now I look in the mirror and see a faded white three inch horizontal scar, the length of my pinky finger; as I put my hand up to it it feels soft and thick. Every time I look in the mirror and see my scar and am reminded of everything I went trough and survived. Then, I remember that its not a scar; it's a beautiful peace of art, a vine of daisies.