She Mocked My Scars, Then Learned the Truth

Chapter 6: The Scars We Architect

Five years later, a sharp autumn wind whipped colored leaves against the tall glass windows of Johns Hopkins Hospital.

I stood quietly in the bright hallway just outside of Operating Room 4, taking a slow breath. I reached up and adjusted the collar of my crisp, white attending physician’s coat, worn proudly over my light blue surgical scrubs.

The navy-blue text embroidered over my heart read: Dr. Maya Vance, Reconstructive Surgery.

I no longer owned a single turtleneck. The standard v-neck collar of my surgical scrubs openly revealed the jagged, raised edges of the burn scars crawling up my collarbone.

I no longer spent any energy attempting to camouflage them with makeup or suffocating clothing. I wore them openly, like medals from a battle. They were my real credentials.