Thanks for nothing, sis.

When I was 11 years old, my sister gave me the chicken pox.  I know.  It was a great birthday present that year.  It’s what I always wanted — horrible red welts all over my skin that itched like a futhermucker.  Thankfully I didn’t get the chicken box as bad as a few people I know, like one who even had them on their tongue.  I mean, they were absolutely covered in it.  I was at about a five, if we’re talking about amount of skin covered by pocks and intensity of the itching.  Anyway, if I take off my glasses, you can see on my right temple a small scar.  It’s where one of the pox exploded, for lack of a better term.  I might have been scratching at it too much.

I also have a really gnarly scar on my leg, one that has absolutely nothing to do with the chicken pox whatsoever.  When I was 17, back in the summer of 1999…

*cries for her lost youth*

…I fell off my bike when the front wheel clipped a cut-out in the sidewalk and pitched me over the handlebars.  I broke my left tibia, right underneath the kneecap, in a herringbone pattern, and needed surgery to repair it.  I have a titanium plate and six screws holding the tibia and the patella together.  I’m like the bionic woman, only not.  The scar starts about midway down my leg, then curls up and around the back of my knee.  The skin is still numb, 17 years later, which feels really weird.  Not all of the nerve endings regenerated after surgery.  I could blame this scar on my sister as well, since she was riding her bike behind me, and if she hadn’t been shouting something at me, I wouldn’t have turned my head to see what she was yammering on about, but I have to take responsibility for this one — I could have waited until we came to a red light or something to find out what she wanted.  Ah well.  I got to cross off a few things on my “Never Have I Ever” list like being in a hospital, breaking a bone, having surgery, and getting hooked up to a morphine drip.  Man, that morphine drip was fun.  I was feeling NO pain. Memories……

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