Ascots, paper gowns and ever-expanding bras

When I Found Out
I found out that I have scoliosis when I was in the sixth grade. It was a mandatory screening for all the kids. The typical way they tell if you have this without an x-ray, is you stand in front of a nurse, bend over and let the nurse run her finger down your spine. If it feels crooked, you may have scoliosis.

So my dad took me to a specialist. My mother had to work, so it was just the two of us. The appointment was awful. They took x-rays, and I spoke with the doctor. He wore an ascot. I thought he was a sailor. (Note to boys--unless you're Christopher Walken, put the ascot down...I'm looking at you David Beckham.)

He told my dad and me that I would need surgery right away. I would be home for so long, in a brace for longer, not able to go to school or play sports. I'd have to walk in the hallways at school at special times when no one else was around who could run into me. I was apparently breakable. I remember crying.

Thankfully, my mother balked at this, and we went elsewhere for a second opinion.

The Consensus
It was decided that I would not need surgery. Apparently, back then, I had a 50-something curve on the right, which was balanced on the left by a second curve. I had no pain whatsoever and couldn't really tell any problems with how I looked, so I was completely against surgery. I ended up having to see a specialist for my back every so often (every year? I don't remember) at a local children's hospital.

The typical appointment was showing up, waiting, taking new x-rays, waiting some more, going to an exam room and seeing a doctor. In the exam room, you wear a glorious paper gown and walk in front of the doctor, let him push and prod at your arms and legs to test strenth and reflexes and then the best part--wearing only underwear (no bras, ladies) he undoes your gown in the back, has you stand in front of him with your back to him and bend over. He then looks at your back, sees where you're uneven and runs his finger down your spine.

For me, then the doctor would say that I still had a bad curve that was slowly expanding, but it wasn't so bad and I didn't have the symptoms to warrant a surgery. Yay, me!

I hated these appointments. It pissed me off that I was different and had to do this. I wanted to ignore that I had this problem and go about my life. It was deformity to me. Wrong and gross and stupid. The moment I was old enough, I stopped going to see the doctor.

At This Time
In the last two years, I've started to have some problems. First, it was the way I look. My chest was expanding and not in the way a 20-something girl wants. I went from a 36 bra to a 38 without actually gaining weight. In fact, I've lost some. Very little, but still.

I can't stand the way I look from the back in most of my clothes. It takes me forever to get dressed. I have to wear button-up shirts in sizes too large so I can button them all the way. Tank tops are a nightmare. Thank God for layering!

Secondly, for the first time in my life, I hurt. By the end of the day, my back was often tense and sore. I always ask Matt to walk on it so it pops. It usually does pop on the right side, but on the left, it seems like nothing ever releases the pressure. It is so annoying. I feel like it is a volcano that needs to erupt. There's so much pressure, but never any release.

I've agonized over these two forever. I could see and feel myself getting worse and really, I've figured for awhile now that the only way to stop this is to have surgery.

I'll get to the rest later.