Page 110 of Rise Above

the scars. Carefully, I pulled the hospital gown from my shoulders and let it flop to my waist. My breasts were exposed, but I didn’t care. Talon’s eyes widened as he stared at my chest, taking in my breasts, tats, and scars.

“Um…” He licked his lips. “Not that I’m

complaining, but why?”

I pointed at my small scar on my abdomen and my

tugged down belly button. “This was my second surgery for a septic appendix. My belly button also shows my first surgery for a ruptured cyst.” I motioned at the pink scar above my underwear. “This is from a grapefruit -sized ovarian cyst.”

I lifted my left knee up. There was a large scar

down the inner part of my leg. “I tore my ACL, MCL, and meniscus.” Then I held up my thumb to show off the small, vertical scar. “Shattered my thumb.”

More angry now, I violently pointed out the scar

between my breasts. “I fell down the stairs and into a glass table. Surgery to remove the glass was four hours, and I was told I was lucky nothing had penetrated vital organs.” Bitterness was clear in my voice, but I needed to push on. I had to get this out.

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I pointed to my left ankle where a white scar was

present. “Tore my Achilles tendon running. Nearly fell into traffic on that one.”

Talon’s eyes stayed wide. I was talking too fast for

him to process fully. I wasn’t sure I wanted him to catch up to my words. What would he think of me? Would he pity me? My body was cold, shivers beginning to wrack me.

My hand motioned to my right breast. “Surgery to

remove a breast mass. Thankfully, no cancer, just more cysts. Mind you, this was all before twenty-three years old. I was in school getting my master’s degree. And then during my final semester of my program, the migraines began.”

Tears filled my eyes; I never wanted to relive that

time in my life. The pain I felt was unimaginable. The migraines couldn’t be treated with medications. Even a migraine cocktail did nothing. My symptoms also included insomnia. There would be times I didn’t sleep for up to three days at a time.

“They couldn’t really figure out what was going on.

They took so much blood, conducted so many tests. By nearly all standards, I appeared normal. Some of my blood was wonky. Nine months I was in pain and just being poked and prodded. They did several spinal taps on me. I felt like I was losing touch with reality.” Sobs wracked my body. I hated this. I hated that this was my story now. “I was eventually called psycho-somatic, and I guess that was just a breaking point for me.”

My mouth went dry. This was the worst part of my

story. “One MRI found this large cyst on my pineal gland. It would need surgery. I wasn’t crazy. However, insurance

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deemed my surgery elective. They kept delaying it or saying I didn’t need it. I had graduated at this point and passed my licensed master social worker exam. I was on my fourth delay, and I finally snapped.”

Talon’s hands covered mine, rubbing circles into

my hands and arms. “Breathe, darling. Just take a minute.” His voice was soft, his movements slow.

Tears spilled down my face. My breathing was a

little ragged. “Talon, I lost it. It was a total breaking point. Just total breakdown. I was in so much pain. There were times I wanted to take a baseball bat to my head, and the last delay just broke me.” This was the hardest part. Breaths hollowed in my chest, air constricting me.