Quarry

I look at myself in the mirror. Today is a great day. I get to re-form. I get to be able to feel whole again.

But I'm not feeling it. I should be excited but I'm not. I'm actually filled with trepidation. And fear.

I am scared. I am scared that I will look weird. For a weird-looking woman, this is a strange way to feel. I don't want to be a freak anymore. I don't want to cry again but faced with my face, I struggle to control my emotions.

I'm tired.

When they first gave me the diagnosis, I was grateful for the fact that something could be done. They could save my life. The relief was enormous.

Once that settled, the realisation that I would never be the same again sank in. Like a brick to the face. I was going to lose my eye. Live, but lose my eye.

The operation went well for an eye extraction. The tumour went with it. That was the deal. Bizarrely, I don't feel so different. One-sided maybe but I can see and move and watch just like I did before.

It was when the dressing was removed that I realised that I was less. I was unfamiliar. I looked at the shape of my face and my body trembled, tightened and clenched as my brain registered its ocular oddity. Where have I gone? I'm more than just an eye and yet, I'm not there.

Instead, I am quarry: my face has been mined for badness and I am a target for others who don't know my back story but fully appreciate my appearance.

I hate their eyes. I'm not envious but I detest their scurrying looks, like skittering scared mice, landing and then escaping before they can be caught. They are invidious.

I get a new eye today. I get something to replace mine. I'm told they are much more advanced in this field nowadays. It is so much more than just glass.

And I want something there, to replace the absence. I want filler, not a patch; an eye for an eye.

Please let it be good. Please. Please let me look normal.

***

364 words

I watched a programme about people who had had operations or accidents and, as a result, had received damage to their faces which rendered them more noticeable to the observer. All they wanted was to blend, so I thought I'd write a story about it.

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