I was around 13 when I first found out I had scoliosis. At the time, I didn’t really know what it meant. I just remember the doctor showing me an X-ray and pointing out how my spine served like the letter “S”. It was scary and confusing. I knew I had scoliosis and it wouldn’t be going away on its own.
The first step in treatment was bracing. I’ll be honest- I hated that brace. It was stiff, uncomfortable, and nearly impossible to hide under my clothes. I had to wear it for most of the day, sometimes up to 14 hours, and it felt like it controlled everything I did. I couldn’t bend easily, I had trouble sleeping and I was constantly worried that people would notice it. Still, I followed my doctor’s instructions because I wanted to avoid surgery. I wanted to do everything I could to fix it.
I also started Schroth therapy, and it became a regular part of my life. I went to sessions and did exercises at home to strengthen the muscles around my spine. Some days were frustrating. I didn’t always want to stretch or do wall angels or planks when all I wanted to do was rest. But deep down, I knew I was fighting for my body- to stay strong, flexible, and maybe keep things from getting worse.
Despite all my effort, my curve continued to progress. Eventually, I had to face something I never wanted to hear: I needed spinal fusion surgery. The thought of someone operating on my spine terrified me. I was afraid of the pain, afraid of the risks, and afraid of what recovery might look like. But I also felt a strange kind of relief- like finally, something would be done to stop it from getting worse.
The surgery was a blur -long hours in the operating room, followed by days in the hospital. I remember the pain, the stiffness, and how hard it was just to sit up or walk again. It wasn’t easy. I had moments where I cried, moments where I questioned if I’d ever feel normal again. But little by little, I got stronger. I celebrated the teeniest milestones: standing up, taking steps, going home.
Recovery taught me patience. It also taught me how strong I really am. Looking at my scar now, I don’t see weakness or brokenness- I see proof that I got through something incredibly difficult. That brace, those therapy sessions, and that surgery are all part of my story. They shaped me into the person I am today.
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