Who am I?

Growing up, I knew I was different. I have a 3.5 inch incision starting on my lower chest and ending at the top of my abdomen. I couldn't play sports because I wouldn't die but I would come very close to it. I learned early in my youth that people fear what they don't understand and their fear causes them to do horrible things. So I kept my secret quiet and created a harmless and innocent little world that all kids do. 

Not long after turning 12, everything had changed. I came home from school one bright warm day. I had a snack, did my homework, and then read until mom came home from work. She gave me a forced smile when she came home; it was a smile that was hiding concern, pain and pity? She took a nap until dad got home. Conversation crept up but slowly disappeared so dinner was mostly silence. 

"My teachers gave me a teddy bear with candy today," I remember saying. "What is going on? Every adult is treating my different including you guys. Did someone die? Is someone hurt?" They looked at each other then proceeded to clean the table, dishes, and put away dinner. They sat down across from me and said 2 weeks ago they got a call from my doctors. My battery is running out and I need to get surgery very soon. They had been talking to the school about what to do and what I would need but they were trying to figure out what to say to me.

I cried. I cried because I feared the worse and it was up there with the worst things that could happen but I never thought it would be me. I cried because this is the first surgery of many that I would actively remember. I cried because my world that I created and sold to others would actively be destroyed and I would have serious explaining to do. I cried because I couldn't be a child anymore and I would have to face the condition that will haunt me until the day that I really did die. 

I can't tell you what happened between that talk and the week until my surgery. I just went through the motions, faked laughed and tried not to let others know. I remember saying bye to me my teachers the day before my surgery and most of them said good luck and see you soon. Then it happened and when it did, it happened in flashes. I woke up in the wee morning and vomited. Then I was in the hospital and I remember the strong contradictory smell of sterility and musk. There was the blood work, where I was poked at by several incapable nurses. I was being rolled to the operating room and the cold touch of the operating table still gives me shivers. There was a burning pain from the anesthesia. And then there is a man talking who appeared over my head with bright crystal blue eyes. I could tell he was smiling reassuringly with those blue eyes and then it went black.

My chest was screaming at me telling me to not breathe when I woke up. I look down and a giant gauze pad and tape wrapping my chest and abdomen greeted me. I wanted to cry again but I couldn't. I slept instead. 

I remember waking up at home on the couch. Family had come to visit and they left me balloons and cards. My parents were talking to me and I answered them, robotic like and methodical. Say the right things and do the right things but I was deep in thought.

Who am I now? Now that this gauze is a literal reminder of who I use to be, but I never truly was. Now that I have disappeared from those around me for at least 3 months. Now that the person returning to them will be entirely different. In one week, my identity was shattered. It was shaken. Who am I?