Saturday, November 10, 2012

The parentheses [Part II]

And so 2 years passed, I lived my life as a totally normal individual, a teenage girl enjoying life. The idea of the surgery wasn't anymore haunting me. It was something that was gonna happen in the future and thus I never really thought about it. I even kind of forgot about it. It's funny how hope can make people forget their worries. It's like I made myself believe that it wasn't going to happen. Until I went to Garche and the doctors brought back the subject. But this time it was different. I didn't cry. I was surprised. And I probably didn't believe that I was going to have that surgery. I thought that it was going to be like the previous time. I thought that I was going to visit the German surgeon and he would tell me that it can wait since I'm flexible. I thought that the French surgeon was going to say that it's still early. I really wasn't worried because in my head, it wasn't going to happen. But I felt that my parents weren't that sure about that. If we follow what the French surgeon said a couple of years ago, we would say that it's time for me to have the surgery. Yet I wasn't convinced. A couple of days after my visit to Garche, I was on a plane on my way to Germany to meet the doctor. All my hopes relied on this man. His words were my destiny and I was pretty optimistic. Too optimistic actually. I remember entering his clinic and sitting around a table with him and my parents. It's weird that I don't remember his name but I remember that he served me orange juice. My mom recapped my story to him and reminded him how two years ago, he saved my life. For me, this doctor was a source of hope. But the thing is, his answer was too blurry. He told us that I was ready to have the surgery but that it can also wait. I was confused. The probability of me having the surgery soon got higher. We went back to Paris on the same day. On the plane, I promised myself not to worry during the coming week and enjoy the theatre workshop I registered for. That workshop was a dream. I've always dreamt to be an actress and till the age of 16, I've always thought that I was going to study theatre at uni. But then I noticed my lack of talent. Anyway, I was 14 and was going to have a 6-day workshop of intensive theatre courses in the most prestigious school of theatre in France, the school of Gad El Maleh, Isabelle Adjani, Guillaume Cannet, Daniel Auteuil and many other great actors. It was one of the best experiences in my life and I'm really glad that for a week, I totally ignored what was going to happen in the very near future. After that week, I had to go back to Garche to meet the French surgeon. It was a different surgeon from the one that I met the first time (two years before) but he was his colleague. I had very mixed feelings and was kind of lost. He checked the X-rays and confirmed that it was time. I directly had to pick a date: either October 20th or November 29th. We were in August so pushing it a month further would make me worry for an extra month. I picked October 20th. After that, I met the anesthesia doctor. He explained to me the before, during, and after of the surgery. All sounded normal until he told me and my parents that the risk of infection of the scar is of 90%. I read a "what the fuck?!" in my mom's eyes. It's like when you buy a new iPhone5 and they tell you that 90% of the users hate the new maps application. But the iPhone is actually a surgery and the maps are actually your life. You'd ask yourself: why would I switch from my old phone to this one? But the answer is simple, your old phone has an extremely high probability of letting you down at any second. So no matter the absurdity of this, I had to do the surgery. I came back to Lebanon a couple of days before school starts. I was in 3ème and I had to present the Brevet at the end of the year. One of the things that I feared was the possibility that the school makes me repeat my class. I mean I was going to miss a month of school minimum. But at the same time I can't tell you that I didn't enjoy the fact that teachers gave me extra attention. I usually don't like being treated as a special person but in this case, I felt it was fair. If any other student was going to skip a month of school for medical reasons, that's how he/she will be treated. So why not me? And then, one day in the end of September, my mom came to me and asked if it bothers me if we push the surgery to November. It was fine with me but I asked her the reason behind this. In fact, she was emailing the other French surgeon (the one I met the first time and who said that my hyper flexibility allows me to wait two years). She basically wanted to be sure if this was the right time. And that gave me hope again. But the surgeon replied after checking the X-rays my mom emailed him that it was the right time. I was finally convinced and for some reason, I was excited to do the surgery. Probably because I wanted to be done with it. I even did a countdown in my MSN's personal message! And then November came and my best-friend back then, Noura, created a Facebook group to support me. Quickly, the group had almost 300 members which was a great number back in 2007! The last week was magical. Noura organized a small surprise party at her house to wish me good luck. It wasn't really a surprise because I definitely saw it coming but I did act surprised so that she doesn't feel disappointed. I hate disappointing people I like and she was definitely one of my favorite people. I met her in kindergarten and we were really close. Her parents even agreed that she spends Christmas vacation with me in Paris since I was supposed to be out of the hospital in mid-December. I was so excited about that and my mom promised me that she was going to book us a table in the Eiffel tower's restaurant for new year's dinner. So yeah, I wasn't really worried about the surgery anymore or at least I was trying to escape the fear by thinking about something else. Anyway, the farewell party was cool and having my close friends next to me was nice. On November 27th, I left Beirut with my parents. It was a Tuesday, we had to be at the airport at 2:00pm. I wonder why I still remember this.

No comments:

Post a Comment