• Dear person I owe my life to

    by  • May 27, 2014 • * Safe for Work *, Gratitude • 0 Comments

    Dear you, dear surgeon, dear person I owe my life to,

    I’m easy to break but hard to kill. That’s because I was not supposed to be here. You offered me the gift of life when I was still a baby, a baby that needed to be saved, and every time I’m down, I don’t need people. I just need to put my palm on my head and feel the 30 cm scar under my fingers. This well hidden scar that no one else can see. And then I remember that life is worth living.

    Because I can see. I can see the world around me. I can hear. And love every single second of this beautiful piano piece I’m listening to, and all the songs I’ve been so thankful to discover. I can hear, hear people’s hearts and listen to their lifetime wishes. I can speak. I can tell them it’s ok. To believe. To have faith in the future because they have a beautiful one, I’m sure. I can sing. I can sing who I am and what’s in my heart. I have a normal face, I look like a normal girl.

    Who could ever suspect that I was not supposed to be like this? This is all thanks to you. You offered me the gift of a normal life. A life without my double craniosynostosis. It took me so many years to find a picture of you. To put a face for the one that I owe my life to. For my hero. The one who welcomed me at the hospital on my 19th birthday, a few years ago, because I wanted to give him a letter. The man who arranged an appointment just for be, despite it’s extremely busy time schedule. An appointment to hear what I wanted to tell him. What took me so many years to have the courage to say : Thank you. Thank you for my life. Thank you for saving people’s lives. Thank you for being the man that you are. Thank you for being the one who reassured my parents when everybody else told them that their child shouldn’t be like this because babies are not like this, because it was all their fault. Thank you for life, for success and happiness. Thank you for being that man who, even 19 years later, still remembered me and had my file in hand to welcome me with a smile as if I were your own daughter. Thank you for Life.

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