Story of My Life
Where do I start? Maybe I'll start as far back as I can remember...
I think I was about 4 or maybe 5 when all this started... I remember when my mom would pick me up by my hair and literally throw me across the room. She would kick me. I would always try to get away from her. But, whenever I would try to get up, she would kick me again. She would also hit me so hard it would give me bruises. Most of the time, she would hit my back (probably so no one would see the bruises). She would yell at me to do my chores. I would do my chores, like she told me to, but whenever I made one little mistake, (like not picking one toy up or not dusting like the way she wanted me to), she would yell at me. She would yell as loud as she could right in my ear. She would also swear @ me & call me names. Sometimes she would tell my dad to spank me when I did something wrong. My dad was gone most of the time to help my grandparents work on the farm, so all he did was spank me whenever my mom was angry at me. I had 3 sisters at the time. My 2 older sisters (well, one of them was my twin) would also get abused. I don't know if my little sister was being abused or not. I don't think she was.
I wouldn't talk to most people. I would only talk to my sisters and the very few friends I had. I remember in 1st grade, when I was playing with a toy, I accidentally knocked someone's block tower over. There was a substitute teacher there that day. She either saw it happen, or the kid told on me for doing it. So, as punishment, she had me sit in front of the whole class. I was sitting in a chair, facing the class. I think the substitute teacher was talking to me about how I shouldn't do stuff like that. She sounded upset. At the time, I thought that she was yelling @ me. I just sat there, crying. I remember some of the kids laughing @ me. I swear that's one of the reasons why I don't like talking to people.
Then, my family & I moved to a small town about 100 miles from where we used to live. We used to live in a city, so I thought that moving to a small town would be "moving to the middle of nowhere". We moved there soon after school ended. I started my 2nd grade school year in that small town. I remember my mom saying, "Don't talk to strangers." To me, every one of the kids in my grade was a stranger, so I didn't talk to them. I finally had 2 friends in 2nd grade - they were both twins also. They moved away near the end of the school year. And I was, once again, left without any friends. The only person I had to talk to in school was my twin sister. (My big sister didn't want to talk to me ever because she thought I was "evil" for some reason).
In third grade, I finally had a friend again. I think it was a couple of months after school started. I could tell she didn't like talking much, either, because she was just standing there, with this worried look on her face. I got up the courage and decided to talk to her. And we were best friends ever since that day. I don't know why, but she didn't like my big sister.
Story of My Life (continued).
Nothing much really happened between 3rd and 4th grade. My mom would still yell @ me. She would still hit me, but not as much as she used to. Then, near the end of 5th grade, when I was 10... I still remember what day it was. It was Friday, February 13, 2009. My great grandmother died. (My great grandfather died about a year before that. I don't know what he died from. My mom wouldn't tell me what he died from. He used to smoke. I remember hearing him coughing and wheezing in his bedroom. IDK why, but he would sit there, in his bedroom, all day, coughing. I sure hope he didn't die from lung cancer or something like that. That would be a horrible way to die.) My mom said it was from a heart attack. I remember seeing her in the hospital a day or two before she died. The same year, during the summer, my family used some of the money we got from my great grandparents to go to Lagoon - that was one good thing that happened in my life.
Then something horrible happened to me. It was a hot summer day near the end of July in 2009. I was 11 at the time. My mom dropped 3 of my sister off at the park to go to the summer reading program. The summer reading program is a thing they do to make sure the kids (from ages 3 to 11) are reading during the summer. My mom didn't drop me off with them. I didn't go with them because I had a dermatologist appointment that day.
When we got to the hospital, we had to sit in the waiting room for a few minutes. The air in the room was warm - moist, summer air - but I felt cold. I started to shake. My entire body was trembling and I couldn't stop it. I looked across the room and saw an old man staring at me. I didn't want to see who else was staring at me, so I stared down at the carpet. It was this ugly shade of yellow with a swirly vine pattern on it. Someone says my name. I look up. "The dermatologist would like to see you now." I take a deep breath so I would stop shaking. I stand up and slowly walk toward the person who said that. Then someone leads me down a hallway into the examining room.
Then the dermatologist opens the door and walks into the room. He shakes my mom's hand and they talk to each other for a couple of minutes. He walks towards me and shakes my hand. Then he sits down in a chair right in front of me. He asks me if he could look at the birthmark on my leg. (The birthmark I have is called "Congenital Nevi"). I nod and push my jeans up my leg and over my knee. He rolls my jeans so they will stay up. Then he takes my leg and rests it on his knee so he can look at it.
Then, he starts asking me questions. "Has it started to look different?", he says.
"No."
"Have you noticed any bleeding?" I look at him as if her were crazy. I stare at my leg.
"No."
"Any burning? Pain? Itching?"
"No."
He stops asking me questions. Then he starts touching my birthmark. I look up at his face. I have trouble identifying his expression. He either looks confused or like he's thinking about something. I look down at my leg again. For the next couple of minutes, he just sits there, poking and rubbing my birthmark with his fingers.
Then, he stops touching my leg. He sighs and sits back in his chair. He looks at me for a few long seconds, then says, "It could be melanoma." I didn't know what that meant, so I just give him a confused look.
Then he said something I never wanted to hear - a word that no one wants to hear from their doctor. He said, "It could be cancerous." I could have cancer. I feel suddenly sick - like I could throw up. I wasn't expecting him to say that. I stare at him, stunned.
I've read something about the kind of birthmark I have. It says this: "Congenital melanocytic nevi are abnormal accumulations of pigment-producing cells in the deeper layers of the skin. Occasionally they are associated with excessive hair growth. Very large lesions have a small but measurable predisposition to develop melanomas, a very dangerous form of skin cancer."
Story of My Life (continued)
... I stare at the dermatologist for a while. I wanted to start crying, but I was too stunned to cry.
"Do you want to get it removed?", he asks me. I couldn't say anything, so I shake my head, "No." That was one of the stupidest mistakes I have ever made in my life. He puts his hand in his face (facepalm) and sighs. Then he stares at me with a worried look on his face.
Then, he grabs a pen and starts drawing a couple of lines on my birthmark. It is shaped like an oval & is about 3 inches big. It's about an inch or two below my knee. He draws two vertical (sort of curved) lines on the sides of it with his pen. Then he tells me about the symptoms of melanoma. (Pretty much "what I should look out for"). He said that if the border on it starts to look "shaded", if it starts changing color (getting darker), changing shape or size, or if it starts moving onto my knee or the other side of my leg, or if it starts itching, burning, hurting, or bleeding, then I should "see him again". I'm pretty sure he meant "If any of that stuff happens, you could be screwed." Then he says, "Any questions?" I say, "No." Then he finally lets me leave that place. I walk out of there with a sad look on my face.
I didn't want to cry because I didn't want anyone to ask me what was wrong.
Story of My Life (continued)
Let me just sum up everything until the present. (I shouldn't write every single detail or this could take a while to read.)
About 3 weeks later, (when school started in 6th grade) I told my best friend about how I could have skin cancer. All she said was, "Oh, I'm sorry." I joined Band class in 6th grade. I play the flute. I have used music to help me forget about how I could have cancer. (It really has helped). About 4 months later, I got pneumonia. I failed some of my classes throughout middle school, especially English. I hate english class. I was bullied by someone throughout middle school. They have stopped bullying me when I was in 8th grade.
I have had suicidal thoughts in 7th grade. I sprained my ankle near the end of 7th grade. I'm pretty sure I am anorexic because, sometimes, I don't eat much. I was sexually assaulted multiple times in 9th grade by the guy I had a crush on. He didn't rape me. He touched me inappropriately. I have barely passed English in 9th grade. I have played my flute in 2 school musicals in 9th & 10th grade.
Surprisingly, I passed English (with A's & B's) in 10th grade. I was pretty much almost sexually assaulted by a teacher during parent teacher conference in 10th grade. He asked me a question. I answered him, but he couldn't hear me, so he leaned closer to me. He kept asking the same question, leaning closer to me. I kept leaning away from him. (I don't like it when people are really close to me.) I was literally laying down in the chair and he was almost laying right on top of me. I had my hand clenched in a fist the whole time, ready to punch him in the face if he touched me. Thank goodness he didn't do anything to me.
In 11th grade... In October, the day before Halloween, I noticed that my birthmark on my leg has started to change. A lump started growing on it. I don't know if it is skin cancer or not. The dermatologist didn't say anything about if a lump started growing on it. I failed English during 3 quarters of the school year. I have been taken out of Band in February. (Which really sucked.) I was back in Band class in the middle of March. :) I have had to go to summer school for a couple of weeks after school ended (because I failed English). I have been in marching band 3 times. 9th grade, 10th grade, and 11th grade (during the summer).