Pyrophobia

Arsonphobia -7-

Chapter seven

The smell of rubbing alcohol filled my nose as I sat on the hospitals bed. My parents were nervously talking to each other about what to do, while we waited for the doctor to come back in. My feet dangled off the edge of the bed as the cool air sent chills upon my arms.

You could hear the footsteps as they made their way towards my room, finally opening the door to see the doctor. He was a nice man, in his late forties with grayish hair and glasses. He had a pen in his hand that he was always constantly clicking and the clipboard in his other, looking down at the sheet of paper that was on it.

“Ms. Rose, it took long enough.” He said, smiling at me politely. “I see you have been skipping your stretching appointments, which is the main cause of what has happen today.”

“Is there anything we can do?” My dad wondered out loud. My doctor turned around, finally realizing my parents were in the room. He smiled at them and shook their hands politely before turning back to me.

“We have a couple options for you but first, let me explain what happened. Those stretching appointments were to help your scar tissue flex, so they wouldn’t shrink up and lose elasticity. Your skin has become tight, so when you move to fast, or stretch it incorrectly, it hurts, badly.” I nodded my head, understanding what he was saying.

“There’s this type of thing people normally do, it’s kind of like Botox, Collagen? Have you heard of that?” He asked, I just looked at him but my mom asked questions. “How is that going to help?”

“Well, for starters, there’s Collagen Creams that she can use, its helps bring the elasticity back into your skin while healing your scar tissue at the same time. Many burn patients think this is a gift. The other option is Collagen treatments, which are kind of intense for some people. It’s a surgery that reconstructs the skins architecture; it helps with proper skin healing. It takes less time to recover than having to put cream on for a couple weeks and then see the difference, this is purely your decision.” He said, looking at my parents and I.

“Can we have time to think about this?” My dad asked, holding onto my mother’s hand. It wasn’t a big deal really, just probably expensive. If it was my choice I would just keep it the same, I don’t need to fix these scars with some sort of cream or injection, that’s the problem; I would know it had been there, I would still be able to picture it. It was psychological, not just physical appearance.

My doctor nodded his head before dismissing himself. My parents were whispering back and forth, trying to not let me hear anything they were saying. The hospital gown I was wearing was itchy, it was driving me crazy, and I just wanted to get out of here and go back home.

“Melinda, I think we should just start off with the cream, it’s less expensive and you won’t have to do a surgery for it. Does that sound alright with you?” My mom asked me, looking at me with those pity eyes I hated so much. I just nodded my head and avoided eye contact during the rest of the hospital visit.

I knew it was time to get up, but I couldn’t find the strength to get out of my warm, soft, and comfortable bed. My alarm clock probably went off about half an hour ago, and I’m surprised that my parents haven’t come to wake me up yet. Today was the first day back at school since I got that cream. I was able to skip the last two days, due to “emotional” behavior, which I was thankful for.

Sighing, I reluctantly moved my legs out of the comfort of my bed and slowly walked to my dresser. I pulled out a pair of black sweats and a long sleeved sweatshirt that was a dark ugly olive green color. I just pulled my hair up in the back of my head really messy like and then walked down the stairs. My mother wasn’t home it looked like, and my dad’s office door was closed, indicating that I should not disturbed him. I grabbed a banana and put my backpack on, grabbing my keys and making my way to the school.