Two weeks before my wedding day I went surfing at Montara Beach. I came up under my board on my first wave and sliced my forehead open with my surfboard’s fin. It didn’t feel bad but blood began pouring into my eyes. I climbed back up the sandy path in between the cliffs and I could tell by (my then boyfriend) Britt’s face that it wasn’t good. He was half way into his dry wet suit but he immediately started stripping it off.
“We’ve got to get to the hospital.” He told my brother who was changing one car over.
“Is it that bad?” I asked them
My brother walked over and his face turned white. He grabbed some McDonald’s napkins from his car and held them to my head. Britt told me later that the cuts were gaping open to the bone. With some help I got out of my wetsuit and went to the hospital.
When we arrived, the nurse got us right into the surgery room. She leaned in to me and and whispered, “You’re lucky, the doctor on duty is a plastic surgeon.”
“She’s getting married in two weeks.” Said Britt urgently.
A shadow crossed over the nurse’s face, she frowned professionally. “Oh, she’ll be fine.” She said and then hurried out of the room. The surgery nurse came in next.
“She’s getting married in two weeks.” Britt told her. Her face tightened for a second but then told Britt that the doctor was a plastic surgeon and it was going to be fine. She cleaned my wound with Britt hovering and breathing over her shoulder and then left the room.
The doctor came in.“She’s getting married in two weeks.” Said Britt manically. “Yes, I heard that.” The doctor replied. “Are you hungry Britt? Why don’t you run down to the hamburger place on the corner and get something for you and, Sunde, do want a milkshake or something?” I nodded.
“Okay, yes, a chocolate milkshake?” I nodded again. He left the room muttering hamburger requests.
The doctor put her mask on and the nurse got the tools prepared. “I just needed his nervous energy out of the room. Okay,” She exhaled, “this will just take a few minutes.”
A few uncomfortable minutes later Britt arrived with hamburgers and milkshakes as the doctor was explaining that luckily, the cut was right in the squint line between my eyebrows, “So I sewed it to look like a natural wrinkle!” This sounded great at the time but it turns out that a wound that has been sewn to appear like a wrinkle, ends up looking like a giant wrinkle when it turns into a scar. I now live life with the strong resemblance to a Klingon with two vertical scars placed off center between my eyebrows.
My wedding day came, and the cut had closed but there were jagged red scars running from my eyebrow straight up to the middle of my forehead. I put some make up over it which did almost nothing to hide the damage. I sighed and just got on with marching down the aisle. But if you ever wondered why I almost always wear a hat, now you know.