I have a small scar on my face, which is almost unnoticeable unless I tell you about it. Even then, you really have to look. It has been healed almost completely due to my mom slathering sunscreen on it every single time I went out in the sun for about a year in a half. The story on how I got my scar is a crazy one. In fact, it is so crazy that the doctors questioned my parents separately to make sure there wasn’t any abuse going on. They, of course, had the same insane story that didn’t sound very believable.

I was two when I was rocking in my highchair, talking to my twin sister next to me. My dad and mom were making breakfast while my grandmother watched over us. My grandmother came over often to help with me and my sister because we were tornadoes of messiness and energy. My father then set down a ceramic coffee cup on the edge of a table in front of my high chair. I kept rocking and bumping the table, which as a toddler doesn’t realize, will cause the coffee cup to start to travel near the edge of the table. I was blissfully ignorant until the coffee cup threatened to to tip over.

It teetered for a second. My father then realized what was happening and tilted me backwards in the chair so the hot contents wouldn’t burn me. The cup crashed to the floor, with me in tow. My right cheekbone fell on a bigger chunk of ceramic and sliced it, leaving a huge gash. My grandmother gasped and picked me up off the ground and put me on the table. I got a pretty nice sized cut, which would need stitches.

I was set into the car and rushed to the hospital. They stitched up my face and sent me home. It was a pretty traumatic experience and made me absolutely hate the doctor’s office. I still get anxiety till this day just thinking about having to go to the doctor’s.