My name is Elena Roloff, and my Scoliosis story began in mid July at a waterpark in Wisconsin, with a twelve year old version of myself. While I was preparing to showcase an epic cannonball into the shallow pool cramped with more bodies than water, my 16-year-old sister blurted, with a minorly disgusted look in her eyes, “What’s up with Le’s back?”. What began as a judgemental dig turned into a precautionary trip to my local children’s hospital. Despite the fact that I entered the x-ray room with little more than subtle excitement at the fancy machinery processing in a foreign language of beeps and clicks (I would get to explore the fancy machinery of my own body in merely minutes!) my demeanor soon changed upon the physician assistant’s arrival into the exam room.
The way the doctors described my condition didn’t seem to fit the severity of the situation, and I exited the hospital with more questions than answers. Following countless hours of research, calls to medical professionals and other scoliosis patients, and trips to tailor my brace to every nook and cranny of my body, my family and I were in a state of acceptance. I was exceptionally grateful that I could avoid any sort of surgery thanks to modern bracing technologies, and took the process one step at a time.
The biggest challenge of my bracing experience originated with the popularity of the crop top. Just as I had reached the age where shorter, more slim-fitting clothing was all the rage, I was struggling just to find clothing that concealed my scoliosis brace. It poked out around my hip and chest, and was neon pink in color (thinking back, a more neutral tone would have been wiser). I came to resent my grungy style I had developed in response to my scoliosis, and having to hide in school bathrooms to change certainly diminished my self esteem. The brace never seemed to fit perfectly, I never seemed to be wearing it for enough hours, and I lived in fear that another peer would discover my deformity with every hug. I began to look ahead at the next four years with a wave of dread steadily washing away my initial sense of hope.
The truth behind this negativity of my scoliosis journey was that I was wearing my brace for more than enough hours each day, I was experiencing minimal pain and discomfort, and only a handful of my closest friends had any idea I had scoliosis for years to come. The majority of my struggle was rooted in my perfectionism and minor paranoia. As I matured and gained bracing experience, I came to feed off of the evolving challenge of owning my own fashion style, changing out of my brace at school as swiftly and secretively as possible, and knowing that any amount of consecutive bracing hours prevented the further deformation of my spine. Most of all, though, I must attribute my bracing success and positive attitude to my loyal team of supporters, including my family, friends, and doctors. Never failing to be there by my side with any complaints, questions, or worries, and constantly lifting me up for my dedication, they made the day where I could pack away my brace for good seem to approach at an accelerating rate.
I am genuinely so grateful for every single time my mom ordered a new tank top to wear underneath my brace that wouldn’t irritate my skin, every time my brace technician drilled a single additional hole into my brace because it felt like a sauna in there over the summer, and every reassuring “you’re doing great” from my doctors after viewing my x-rays. Soon enough, I was walking out of that same hospital once again, just as I had entered four years before: no brace in hand, my supporters by my side, and excitement bubbling up inside of me.
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