I am a Freak by Tess, Star of the Sea College
It began with an accident that marked her new existence outside the world she’d known. This would start her time in the place of the grey area of life - a place of uncertainly and separateness from those around her.
Part 1:
The loud ambulance roared down the Queensland highway at the crazy speed of 130km per hour, with five people on board grappling with a worsening situation, with one girl still amid the chaos, barely alive. The MICA doctor yelled instructions to the stern paramedics while syringes, tubes and medical life saving machines swamped the form of the sixteen-year-old, lying with a shaking body. The young sailor’s bruised, bleeding and battered face was already swelling disproportionately. Her horror-stuck father could hardly recognise his own daughter with all the medical intervention and puffiness of the face, which made her seem less than human. The doctor placed his years of science and medical study into action to quickly resuscitate the unmoving girl for the second time, before the vehicle came to a squealing halt outside the Princess Alexandra Hospital. She was quickly anaesthetised as she lay on the hard, cold operating table now subject to scalpels, shaving kits and drilling tools to reduce the pressure in her altering brain.
“Garrrhhhh, farrr” the words weren’t even close. It seemed a form of Frankenstein’s monster had been born.
Part 2:
They called it words like “rehabilitation”, “recovery”, “rehab.” Words no one would ever want to live through if they had a choice. The next 47 days passed slowly and the recovery process was so foreign and dehumanising. Each hour felt longer than the one before. Her new room in the depressing, dark hospital was simply hot and boring. Each day she lay in bed with a heart that felt like a squeezed sponge, her heart and body slowly being sponged away leaving her simply scarred, hurt and confused. She had no control over what was happening to her. She handed over all control just to make it through each day. She had no sense of herself, she just watched it happen and offered no argument. Today when the nurses asked her to swallow some tables, she did.
She twisted her head to its side trying not to touch the 25 staples gripped into the side of her head. She looked outside her window to notice a group of grey moths fluttering outside in the heat. She didn’t take much notice of them; just how ugly they were. She could also see her own reflection in the window and her heart slowly started to feel sorry for herself. She once again didn’t notice much but just how ugly she looked. The moths were a symbol of her. She felt like a moths wanting to escape this grey, unclear stage in life and turn into a beautiful butterfly. A stage of life she longed to be a part of. Her red rough eyes looked into those of her mum, which looked no different, terrified. She could see the thousands of emotions going through her eyes but couldn’t do a thing about it.
Part 3:
She was so broken. She stood on the corner on Martin Street and Murphy Street. Here she surveyed every pretty Star girl who walked passed. They all looked so confident, chatting with their girlfriends, carrying their lattes; their school dresses bouncing as they walked with a happy gait. She used to be one of them. She used to feel confident and beautiful like them. Of course it had to be windy TODAY. Today was her first day back at school after a long absence. Her dress didn’t fit her like it used to, would her friends even be able to recognise her?
That “she” and “Frankenstein” is me. Tess. My heart was lost and broken when my existence was far from the world I once knew. Me, the young sailor, living in the grey area of life. The unclear place in which many of us feel lost.
It began with an accident that marked her new existence outside the world she’d known. This would start her time in the place of the grey area of life - a place of uncertainly and separateness from those around her.
Part 1:
The loud ambulance roared down the Queensland highway at the crazy speed of 130km per hour, with five people on board grappling with a worsening situation, with one girl still amid the chaos, barely alive. The MICA doctor yelled instructions to the stern paramedics while syringes, tubes and medical life saving machines swamped the form of the sixteen-year-old, lying with a shaking body. The young sailor’s bruised, bleeding and battered face was already swelling disproportionately. Her horror-stuck father could hardly recognise his own daughter with all the medical intervention and puffiness of the face, which made her seem less than human. The doctor placed his years of science and medical study into action to quickly resuscitate the unmoving girl for the second time, before the vehicle came to a squealing halt outside the Princess Alexandra Hospital. She was quickly anaesthetised as she lay on the hard, cold operating table now subject to scalpels, shaving kits and drilling tools to reduce the pressure in her altering brain.
“Garrrhhhh, farrr” the words weren’t even close. It seemed a form of Frankenstein’s monster had been born.
Part 2:
They called it words like “rehabilitation”, “recovery”, “rehab.” Words no one would ever want to live through if they had a choice. The next 47 days passed slowly and the recovery process was so foreign and dehumanising. Each hour felt longer than the one before. Her new room in the depressing, dark hospital was simply hot and boring. Each day she lay in bed with a heart that felt like a squeezed sponge, her heart and body slowly being sponged away leaving her simply scarred, hurt and confused. She had no control over what was happening to her. She handed over all control just to make it through each day. She had no sense of herself, she just watched it happen and offered no argument. Today when the nurses asked her to swallow some tables, she did.
She twisted her head to its side trying not to touch the 25 staples gripped into the side of her head. She looked outside her window to notice a group of grey moths fluttering outside in the heat. She didn’t take much notice of them; just how ugly they were. She could also see her own reflection in the window and her heart slowly started to feel sorry for herself. She once again didn’t notice much but just how ugly she looked. The moths were a symbol of her. She felt like a moths wanting to escape this grey, unclear stage in life and turn into a beautiful butterfly. A stage of life she longed to be a part of. Her red rough eyes looked into those of her mum, which looked no different, terrified. She could see the thousands of emotions going through her eyes but couldn’t do a thing about it.
Part 3:
She was so broken. She stood on the corner on Martin Street and Murphy Street. Here she surveyed every pretty Star girl who walked passed. They all looked so confident, chatting with their girlfriends, carrying their lattes; their school dresses bouncing as they walked with a happy gait. She used to be one of them. She used to feel confident and beautiful like them. Of course it had to be windy TODAY. Today was her first day back at school after a long absence. Her dress didn’t fit her like it used to, would her friends even be able to recognise her?
That “she” and “Frankenstein” is me. Tess. My heart was lost and broken when my existence was far from the world I once knew. Me, the young sailor, living in the grey area of life. The unclear place in which many of us feel lost.
A note about the author:
In January 2012, which competing at a youth sailing championship in Brisbane, then 16-year-old Tess Lloyd sustained a head injury when her 29er skiff was involved in a collision with a sailboarder. Lloyd was knocked unconscious and her crewmate, Lewis Duncan, held her above the water until help came, saving her life. "My dream is to go to an Olympics," Tess said. "I'll aim at Rio and the one after that."
In January 2012, which competing at a youth sailing championship in Brisbane, then 16-year-old Tess Lloyd sustained a head injury when her 29er skiff was involved in a collision with a sailboarder. Lloyd was knocked unconscious and her crewmate, Lewis Duncan, held her above the water until help came, saving her life. "My dream is to go to an Olympics," Tess said. "I'll aim at Rio and the one after that."