I shall never complain…

About the scare on my face again.  I’ve been meaning to do this for a while and so last night I sat and watched “My Beautiful Face” the Katie Piper documentary on 4OD last night.  Katie Piper is a young model and TV presenter who was raped and then horribly scarred when she had acid thrown into her face.  Her battle to deal with her injuries and the bravery she showed in dealing with such a life-changing event made me take a cold hard look at myself and I have come to the conclusion that I really have nothing to complain about with my own facial scar

Just a few weeks before my 14th birthday, I went to a rifle range with my dad.  This was not an unusual occurrence back then.  Dad had a firearms license and a few rifles and handguns, including a (I can’t be specific as to the model) Russian First World War issue rifle.   As I remember, It was a pretty chilly and overcast day. My mum was in hospital recovering from Appendicitis and my grandmother was looking after the house so my sister and I were taken out with my dad and his friend.  I had been a few times and had been (responsibly) shown how to handle a firearm and had a fair few goes (I was a pretty good shot).

We’d been there a short time, dad and his friend had set up and were starting to shoot.  My sister and I were sat on a picnic rug just chatting. I remember feeling cold and putting the hood of my very stylish white ski-jacket (this was the 1980′s remember) up.  This was just a layer of fabric which had a velcro fastening.  It was sufficient enough to take the edge of the wind, so we sat waiting for when we would be allowed to have a go.

The next thing I remember is a warm feeling on my left side of my face.  I put my hands to my face and fell to the rug laughing.  When I sat up again my sister was screaming.  Taking my hands from my face, I saw they were covered in blood, then I screamed.  My dad came running over as did the range warden.  Someone called 999, but we were told that I would take a long while for an ambulance to reach us.  The range warden, my dad and I got in the warden’s car and drove to the nearest A&E.  Which was shut (some A&Es are not 24×7).  We then drove onto the next hospital’s A&E.  I remember feeling tired during the drive and my dad kept talking to me as he was worried about me going unconscious.  I remember being strong enough to walk into the A&E and being literally pounced on by medical staff.  I remember everything else about that day apart from how I got out of my clothes into the hospital gown.  I remember being x-rayed where they found shrapnel in my cheek.  I remember police coming in to interview me. I remember my grandfather (my dad’s, dad) coming in to see me (as it was a few minutes down the road from where they lived).  I remember a very kind doctor giving me the choice to have surgery there and have a massive scar, or be transferred to the plastic-surgery hospital an hour down the road and see what they could do.

I had surgery that day to remove the shrapnel.  For a week I had a massive bandage on my left side of my face.  I assumed I had a massive scar.  When they removed the bandage, I didn’t know what to think.  I didn’t have a big scar.  I had a small one near my jaw.  Once the air hit the face it swelled and got really puffy, but I was assured it would only be for a short while.  It was explained that the injury had resulted in a 10mm hole in my face, a dent in my jaw and had severed some of the muscles in my face.  Luckily the damage was not too bad and the surgeons had managed to repair most of the damage. I remember being told I was lucky my jaw had not shattered.  I reckon my train-track braces absorbed the impact.

I have been really self-conscious about my scar ever since.  In my wedding photos, I’ve had the scar photo-shopped out.  I try not to show my left side of my face in photos, and feel that everyone can see the scar.  In reality nobody notices unless I point it out.  Watching Katie Piper’s battle and also those who have extensive facial scarring makes me realise how lucky I actually am.  I had the choice between a big scar or a tiny one.  Many do not have that choice.

I have learned a valuable lesson.  Not to be shallow, to be grateful for the choices I had and for the love of those I have in my life.  Katie, I applaud you, you’ve shown me humility.

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