"Ready? Just look straight ahead. Remember, you have nothing to be ashamed of." I nodded. My heart was hammering, my too-small, too-narrow palms sweating. I was ready to get out of the rehab facility, yes, but I wasn't sure I was ready for people's reactions. I understood their disgust because I'd felt it myself-right up to the moment I was given the choice: a transplant or the morgue. When you're faced with that choice, suddenly the transplant doesn't seem so horrible. Eventually you'll relearn how to move naturally enough that you can pass, my counselor had told me. The real trick is hiding the scars. Scarves are a dead giveaway. No one wears a scarf who isn't trying to hide scars.
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