The Metal Scale Essay
She proceeded gathering my remaining vitals—blood pressure, temperature, urinalysis. I was no longer a thirteen-year-old girl from Connecticut. I was a lab rat.
Then, reaching under the wooden counter, she withdrew a white hospital gown. Like the environment, it appeared aged and withered. “Put this on. The doctor will see you momentarily,” she instructed before vanishing from the room. Relieved to cover my protruding bones, I slipped into the oversized gown and climbed atop the bed. The paper-liner crinkled beneath my hands; I attempted to straighten it, only tearing it further. So, I sat, quiet and apprehensive.
In a mirror opposite the bed, I spotted a reflection.
I barely recognized myself.
No longer was I the youthful, positive teen whose eyes grew wide at the sight of ice-cream and wild with adventure. Instead, my face, now hollow and…