Tonight on the eve of my 42nd birthday I sit here and
reflect on all of the twists and turns I’ve taken throughout my life. I particularly focus on how each one has
molded and shaped the humble woman I have become. Although things didn’t always
turn out the way I would have wished them to, I am at peace with my past. I
remember with gratitude instead of regret.
As the title of this blog suggests, the story behind my
smile is one of my most humbling lessons. Although I have come to terms with
it, I have to admit to this day when someone compliments my smile I still feel
a sense of cringe, dismay and disbelief.
It all started one very early spring morning in 2003. I awoke
to the sound of my alarm going off around 3:30 or 4:00 am. I was crazy overzealous back then, I always
tried to get to the office super early.
That particular morning I was feeling a little lazier than most, it was
chilly, and I just wanted to snuggle with Gillian, my naughty red beagle. She was
3 ½ at the time and had proven to have somewhat of a snarky side. To be honest, as much as I loved that dog she
was always a little psycho and had a bit of a mean streak.
Anyway, I crawled under the covers to snuggle with her. Hindsight is definitely 20/20; thinking back
now there is a lot of truth behind the saying “let sleeping dogs lie.” As I went to hold Gillian she gave me one of
her nasty growls, the warning that she did not share my cuddling mood. Unfortunately, in my need for comfort I
ignored her cautionary request and I was promptly greeted by her sharp snapping
bite. In an instant she took a dime-sized
hunk out of my lip.
Although this happened 11 years ago, I still vividly
remember the events that followed after “Gillian bit a chunk of my lip off.”
Something instinctively made me think to rescue the piece of my lip from the
bed and put it in water (I know now I should have put it in ice). Then I immediately went to the bathroom
mirror to assess the damage. I recall removing the tissue I was using to stop
the bleeding just long enough to look at myself in the mirror. Horrified by the image I saw staring back at
me, I went into problem solving mode.
For a brief second I tried to think of a way to cover it with make-up,
but quickly recognized that would not work.
So I did the thing any single girl would do in a state of shock…I called
my Mom crying. Within minutes my Mom was
at my house and we were heading to Sharp ER.
Once we arrived one of the nurses quickly put what was left
of my lip on ice and whisked me away to a bed. There were questions about
Gillian, I had to fill out forms that would inevitably be sent to Animal
control. Then was a lot of discussion between
the nurses and the doctor on duty about how to treat me. Thankfully, they decided to call in a plastic
surgeon to perform the reattachment. I will always remember Dr. Vecchione as my
rescuer. He performed miracles that
morning, 25 stitches later my lip was reattached and I was sent home for
recovery.
The first thing I saw when I got home was the shameful
remorseful look in Gillian’s eyes; she knew she did something bad. While there was forgiveness on my side, I
never completely trusted her again (more of this later). I spent most of that afternoon in and out of
a dazed sleep.
The next day I returned to work. As vain as I was back then
I was more of a workaholic. I had
convinced myself the curriculum world would not survive another day without
me. I remember attending a huge meeting
with all of the Vice President’s. All
eyes were on my face and the huge white bandage that covered my upper lip. I looked like a spokeswoman for a ‘Got Milk”
ad.
The weeks that followed were long and painful. It took all of my strength and courage to
walk with my head held up high. Especially
since all I wanted to do was crawl in a hole and rot away. One of my colleagues who himself was
apparently more vain than I, admitted he would have done just that.
I visited Dr. Vecchione regularly so he could monitor the
healing process. Finally the day came
when the bandages would be completely removed.
I don’t know what I was expecting, but I definitely was not prepared for
the image I saw once he took them off.
The reattachment did not take; there was a dime-sized hole where my lip
once was. Once I saw the gapping hole in my lip I immediately burst into
tears. In all my memories I cannot recall a
time when I felt more ugly than I did at that moment.
I think Dr. Vecchione had a hunch that it was possible the
attachment would not work. He lifted my
spirits when he told me about another option.
As it turned out, his brother was a cosmetic surgeon. I went straight to his office and started the
next round of procedures and recovery.
After several sessions with Dr. Vecchione II, minor reconstructive
surgery and natural healing my smile was almost back to normal.
While I try not to dwell on it too much, I know the
imperfection is there. To this day if
you look closely you can see the small check mark scar above my lip and the
little crease in my smile.
Looking back I know I didn’t learn the humbling life lesson
from my experience immediately. If anything it was quite the opposite. Shortly
after it happened I went into what I now refer to as “my early life crisis.” Overtime,
however; the incident has helped keep me in check, I realize it could have been
much worse, and have come to appreciate how it has helped keep me
grounded.
As for Gillian, while most people thought I should have put
her to sleep, I couldn’t punish her when it was mostly my fault. After the incident I took her to a
behaviorist, it mostly helped me learn how to handle her and deal with her
aggression. She had a red dot on her medical chart, even then I always warned
the vet or anyone who worked with her that she would bite. Fortunately, she never bit
anyone like that again. She lived a normal happy healthy life until she was
12 when I had to do the humane thing and put
her to sleep because complications from congestive heart failure. As crazy as it sounds I will always love that crazy beagle!
