Phil Penne Creations

#18 - The Smile

 

 

        The other driver came out of nowhere and T-boned you doing about forty-five miles per hour. Your car rolled over and over and came to rest on its roof. By the time the paramedics got there your body was a mass of blood from the broken glass and other pieces of the car that dislodged and became missiles upon impact. You had broken ribs, a compound fracture of your left arm, a concussion, and lacerations to your face and scalp. You don’t remember much about what happened once you arrived at the trauma center; you just remember waking up the next morning feeling like Frankenstein’s monster, with tubes, sensors, wires, and clamps attached to every part of your body. 

        As days passed, you were moved to another room. The pain began to subside and the medical trappings were gradually removed from your body until all that was left were the layers of bandages covering your head and face. Concerned nurses and inquisitive doctors filed in and out of your room, poking, prodding, and questioning. In a very upbeat tone of voice, they all told you about how well you were doing, and how they had never seen anyone recover so quickly, and what great insurance you had, and how beautiful you were going to be again, and blah, blah, blah. They spoke in more somber, almost apologetic tones about the extensive damage to your face and the considerable reconstructive surgery that had been performed... 

 

 

 

 

Medical science had its hands full when they brought you in. They put you back together by the book...

 

 ...but some parts didn't turn out quite as expected. ​​​​​​​​​​