For this week's writing assignment I chose this prompt:
1.) It was a bad burn. Tell about the worst sunburn you ever received. How did that happen!?!
However, this is not a sunburn story. Just a "burn" story. I know I'm not following the teacher's instructions, I was never really good at that even when I was in school, so no point in stopping now (Sorry,MamaKat!) Here's my "Bad Burn" story.
My "Bad Burn" happened when I was 8 months old. I was too young to remember but my parents told me the story a 100 million times I might as well have. I was apparently on my walker, my mom was at the store and the sitter was doing whatever the heck she wasn't supposed to be doing. So, little me wandered off to the kitchen and managed to pour a pot of boiling water all over me. If this was a movie, I'd be done for. No, my life is not just a movie, it's a freaking saga.
I was in the hospital for months, as the story goes, cars needed to be sold to pay for surgery. I suffered 3rd degree burns all over my body. Thank God for science, my skin was restored, just a few scars left.Hearing this story all the time made me believe I'm a survivor. That I can walk through a crisis and be the tough little nut job I'm supposed to be. That I'm built for tougher stuff.
When my brother died, I did not cry when I had to go to the funeral home, watch the embalmer start working on his body (WTF?! Yeah,the guy forgot to close the curtain) and pick out his casket. When I did the eulogy, I did not cry, I held on because we still had to bury him and everybody else was already breaking apart. I cried a few weeks later when I went back to school. Why? Because I'm built for tougher stuff.
When my mom had her final stroke, when they intubated her in front of me, when the doctor told me only the machine was keeping her and I had to make "decisions", when I held her as she gave her last breath, I did not cry or break down. Because I still had to plan, to tell my older siblings, I still had to plan the funeral, pick out a casket, look for a lot. I did not cry or break down because I had stuff to do. It took a few weeks before I was able to weep silly, and all because I stubbed my foot.
When my dad collapsed last night, I did not cry or freak out because I still had to check if he was breathing, had to call someone, had to give him emergency care,had to stop the baby from crying, had to help dad up and pray he does not die in his sleep.
Why did I hold off?
Why not have a break down and scream for the neighbors?
Because I'm built for tougher stuff.
I really don't believe that. Not all the time. I wish I could break down, be a damsel in freaking distress. I wish I could be that person who weeps, freaks out and scream their lungs out in the midst of a raging storm. Because then I wouldn't be so tired and worried about how much more I have to survive.
I wish I did not learn about that "bad burn".
Wait. Wait. Think. I take that back.
I hate being a damsel in distress. So not me! I'm not a weepy person. I tried to be,but no cigar.
I love my "bad burn" scars. They tell me, I'm built for tougher stuff!