It’s funny, I’ve had this blog for nearly a decade and I’ve never shared my Scoliosis story in this space. I guess I never wanted it to completely define me, or shed light on the 8” scar that runs along my spine. But the older I get the more I realize that the tough stuff in life is just part of the ride and without those struggles we may never tap into courage, love and valuable knowledge. And talking about the not-so-perfect elements of our life should be honored just as equally. 

So what is scoliosis? Remember as a kid how your Dr. would have you touch your toes to check your spine in a physical check up, to make sure it’s straight? Well, mine started growing like an “s” at age 11. By the time I was 15 I was told that surgery was needed for the 56 degree curved spine I was sporting. At that age all I cared about was the scar I would be left with. A small concern compared to the potential complications I could have faced, which my parents probably lost sleep over, but thankfully my surgery went well and I recovered smoothly. The fusion was T4 to L3 (that’s 11 vertebras) and I had two titanium rods with screws implanted to hold my fused spine—they’re still in there today. I’ll never forget standing up for the first time after surgery because I gained about a full inch in height when I was straightened out. Ironically my dad also happens to be a spinal surgeon, he didn’t do the surgery for a handful of reasons, but he made sure we took the right steps the whole way through, including various back braces for years leading up to the inevitable surgery. While it wasn’t anything as bad as Joan Cusack’s neck brace in Sixteen Candles, it was like throwing a wrench into my middle school angsty social life so I found every hiding spot to rip it off and hide it the second my parents dropped me off. Needless to say it wasn’t effective, especially when I shot up like a weed at 14 and the curve got worse overnight. 

The actual surgery wasn’t bad looking back. I was too young to hold on to the fear and went into it feeling like I was in good hands—today I’d probably be a mess. But I bounced back, as any 15-year-old would and gladly opted for home schooling for a couple of months while I healed. 

Life from that moment on was definitely different, which all turned out to be good different. I was forced to quit ballet, my passion since I was 3-years-old, but on the flip side I started picking up a camera, dove into my teenager social life and learned how to sneak out of my bedroom window—translation I started having more fun. Had I not been forced to change course, I think I would have missed out on a lot of growing up and truly finding myself.