I was a Mistake

Feeling Better

I flinched as the saw roared into my cast. I knew the doctor wouldn't hurt me but the shrieking sound caused fear to grip my chest. We were at a checkup at the doctor. It had been eight weeks since my kidnapping and my wrist was ready to be taken out of it's cast. It was feeling much better and I was a little too excited to be able to use it again. The hard material of my cast would be replaced with a brace to be worn most of the time but I considered that a big improvement.

"Alright, Eden," Dr. Reese said. "If you'll follow me, we'll do a CT scan to see how that liver's doing. It should be perfectly fine but it won't hurt to check." I followed the stout man slowly to a room down the hall.

I walked with an even more pronounced limp than I'd had since I was little because of a hip contusion I had received with the twins. It caused spasms of pain to spread throughout my leg. It wasn't serious, I just had to give my body time to heal, but the fact that I couldn't move as much as I wanted to was annoying. Dr. Reese even had to slow his pace to walk beside me. I could tell he was analyzing each step I took to assess how I was healing.

Once the CT scan was complete and we had returned to the room, Dr. Reese turned to me after washing his hands and putting a pair of gloves on. "I'll call in about a week to let you know about the results. I also wanted to check on your new scars. I noticed you're being careful with your back. If the stitches did not dissolve properly, we might need to take them out manually." I had received more than fifteen gashes on my body from the whip. Only some needed stitches. The others only needed ointment and bandages.

I had four places on my body that were stitched. Twenty stitches from my spleen surgery, twelve on my upper thigh, seven on my cheek, and a whopping one hundred and fifteen plus internal stitches in a gash on my back. Yes, the whip did most of my outward damage. The other weapons only bruised me.

My doctor instructed me to pull up my shirt so he could see my back. "Have you been taking care of them properly?" he inquired. I nodded. I had been caring for them every day, moisturizing, cleansing, and keeping a bandage on them to prevent as much scarring as I possibly could.

I took a big breath, preparing myself so I could talk to the man in front of me. Momma nodded at me encouragingly. I still had trouble talking to people I didn't know very well. I had been working very hard to gain confidence.

"I'm pretty sure all of my wounds look good except for the one on my back. It's just so big and it's taking a long time to heal." My voice still sounded very scratchy. I sounded like the lady at the supermarket Momma took me to, and she'd been smoking for years.

"That's common. It might just be trying to completely heal. Is it still hurting you?" He prodded at my back and I flinched. I had found a way to sleep on my back without extreme pain, but hitting it on something or touching it hurt more than I cared to admit. I had even screamed at Noah when he tried to pull me to his side the week before and accidentally scraped over it with his fingers.

My back wound lingered longer than all the other stitched gashes on my body. Most scabbed and were healed within a week or two. Although many of the stitches took a long time to heal, they felt better within a month. My back, though, stayed red and gave me problems all the time.

"My back hurt very bad until I found a way to sleep without laying on it. It sometimes hurts if I even slightly brush it on something." I coughed, worried I'd be admonished for it not healing properly. My doctor had given us very specific instructions on how to care for my wounds and I had done my very best to follow them.

"She definitely favors it," Momma told him. "She sits down slowly so she doesn't pull it. She doesn't like to lean back on it. It's done wonders for her posture but I'd rather have her hunchbacked than with pain."