People sometimes ask me how I got the long thin scar on the side of my face. My scar, which I have had for thirteen years, was the result of a simple kitchen accident involving glass.
When I was two, I was sitting at the kitchen table waiting for more orange juice. Since my mother was ignoring me, I decided to get my own. I stood up in my chair and reached for the glass pitcher of juice. Just as I grabbed it, I lost my balance and fell to the floor with my face crashing down into the pitcher. The glass made a 6-inch gash on the side of my face that went into my hairline. Believe it or not, I was very lucky, since I did not cut any major arteries or got glass in my eye.
What followed was an ambulance ride to the hospital, lots of tests, and four hours of plastic surgery. I went home the next day with a swollen face and lots of stitches. Today I have only a thin red scar as a reminder.
Before my accident, my family never thought about safety with glass. Since then, many glass items have been replaced with plastic. Even when we bring glass to be recycled, we are careful not to slip or fall.
The doctor who operated on me told my parents that the most badly cut patient he had operated on was someone who fell in the bathroom while holding a glass. I hope that repeating stories like these will convince you to treat glass with respect. tf
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.