Scared, scarred and slurring, how could I face the world anew?
SLOWLY WAKING, I found I was in a scene from Casualty, coughing, spluttering and grabbing at the tube stuck down my throat. Wanting to shout “Get it out” but realising I couldn’t speak, I heard my mother’s panicking voice before the blackness closed in again. Having drifted for days, I rejoined the world to hear “See, her mouth has slipped”. Someone explained that it was because of the seizures (that had landed me in intensive care on a ventilator). Common following brain surgery. Looking at myself for the first time, I was shocked to see that I was no longer the babe I once was. A Frankenstein-esque wound ran round my hairline; my temple was a wobbly, bruised swelling. Putting on my lip-gloss, I convinced myself I didn’t look that bad. All around were cards and flowers and though it was October there was a reindeer that played Jingle Bells when you squeezed its tummy. I ached to see my boy James, but it was decided that he should visit when I looked less like a character from Star War
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