How scoliosis shaped my life – literally

When the cold, white, plastic shell of the back brace was placed into my hands in November of 2010, I was in a state of disbelief. A week ago, I had been a normal twelve-year-old and the decision that was most “life-pressing” was what outfit I was going to wear to school the next day. Now I was faced with a real choice: wear the brace or risk needing surgery.

I was diagnosed with adolescent idiopathic scoliosis — a deformity of the spine whose cause is unknown — at the age of ten. Meaning that my spine wasn’t straight like “normal” spines; it was in the shape of an “S.” My doctor said I didn’t have to worry about it, so I didn’t.

Little did I know that in two years, it would become my biggest worry.

Without warning, my doctor’s trademark line, “Everything looks fine; come back in a couple months and we’ll do another x-ray” became “Your curves are progressing too quickly. If you don’t want surgery, you need to start wearing a brace.”

I had no idea how my life was about to change. And then I saw…it.

A week later, this white, plastic thing was sitting in my hands. This definitely was’t what I was expecting. It looked like a modern-day, robotic corset. It was disgusting.

The first time they put it on me, I felt as if my lungs were going to burst from being squeezed so tightly. I thought about my favorite activities. How would I ever be able to do them again if I couldn’t even breathe? How was I supposed to wear this contraption for eighteen hours a day, every day?

And worse: how was I supposed to wear this contraption to school?

November 9th is forever ingrained in my mind as my first day of school wearing my new Boston brace.

My favorite way to reveal my new “abs of steel” to my friends was by asking them to punch my stomach and then watching their faces as their hands unexpectedly hit the solid plastic. If I had to wear this thing, I was going to have fun with it! The best part was the support from my friends following the introduction of the brace. It was the most amazing feeling in the world to have friends who knew this secret and still had my back.

Like any seventh-graders would, my friends became curious. When they asked to see what the brace looked like during lunch, I turned around and lifted my shirt so that the protruding Velcro straps and hard white shell became visible.

The next thing I heard was an echo of laughter ringing throughout the cafeteria. Despite my friends’ reassurances that they were just jerks and not to worry about them, I wasn’t comforted. Having to deal with the physical pain and now this? What did I do to deserve this?

I would ask myself that question many times over the three and a half years I spent wearing the brace. I asked it when the brace would dig into my hip so badly that my whole leg would go numb. I asked it when I looked in the mirror crying and saw all the dents, rashes, cuts, bruises, and scars left all over my body, realizing that my torso would never be the same again. I asked it when my parents and I discovered that my doctor and brace-maker had made my first three braces incorrectly, causing much more physical pain than what should be, and exposing me to more radiation than I needed because it meant taking many more x-rays. I asked it on the days I was tired of hearing the rip of the Velcro straps and the clink of the metal hooks orchestrate all my waking hours.

Eventually, I realized it was more important to ask this question in a different light.

What did I do to deserve such wonderful, supportive parents who went through every twist and turn with me, from staying up with me on those first braced nights when I couldn’t fall asleep to being the first ones to celebrate when we finally got the news that my braced days would end soon?

 

What did I do to deserve my amazing family and friends who always supplied me with shoulders to cry on, endless hugs, and the best medicine any doctor could prescribe: laughter?

 

What did I do to deserve the mentor introduced to me in my freshman year of high school who showed me what the true meaning of empathy is, taking me under her wing almost immediately and commending me on my positive approach to brace-wearing, after only two days of knowing me?

When I started focusing on the positive things my brace had provided me instead of the negative things, it became much easier to come to terms with my new life. Not every day was filled with sunshine, but wearing the brace taught me that if I could find something, even if it was just one thing, to be grateful for each day, then I would be okay.

The first day I didn’t have to tighten the Velcro straps around my back was the best day of my life. May 3rd is a day I celebrate each year. Each time it passes, it is as if I have conquered the brace all over again. It is proof that my spinal deformity does not define me. Even though I have to live with it and the memories of my brace for the rest of my life, my spine does not carve the path for me to follow. I am so much more than what is behind me.

Now, two years brace free and a freshman at THE Ohio State University, I can proudly say I am finally embracing my life.