You wouldn't expect a healthy looking eighteen year old to have major, invasive surgery. But I did.
I have scoliosis. It evidently runs in the family. It spreads from girl to girl, generation to generation like chicken pox in a pre-vaccine kindergarten class. And I was fortunate enough to catch it like the others. It made my hips uneven so that jeans fit funny and those groovy 90's wide belts were always crooked on me.
I knew a little about scoliosis. My cousins who are eight and four years older than I am had surgery a decade before me. They spent weeks in the hospital. They wore body casts and then body braces. They did school from home for the better part of a year.
So when I learned that I had it too, I was petrified.
Luckily, medical technology is rather amazing! A mere ten years later meant that I spent under a week in the hospital with no cast or brace at all. Then, my therapy was to walk, increasing daily, until I could walk the campus on my first days of college. Incredible.
Many parts of that summer are still vivid in my mind. Mom and Dad taking me to be blessed before traveling to the hospital. Barely sleeping in the hotel the night before. Rising before the sun. Attempting to count backwards as the numbness crept in. And finally, waking.
After, they rolled me down the hallway, cautiously turning each corner. Ceiling tiles flickered overhead and then slowed as my parents approached, leaning over my gurney like vultures. Dad prodded me and joked, the way he always deals with tough situations. Mom patted me in her maternal, sensitive way and asked how I felt. In my hazy stupor, I replied, "It hurts like hell!" They both exploded into giggles. Letting any such four letter word slip from my innocent lips was highly unlike me back then.
Mom slept in my hospital room during my stay. One of those days, she laughed yet again when she realized I had stopped flicking channels and landed on a Spanish station. When she turned, I was zonked out asleep, remote in hand. Guess the surgery took a toll!
One night Mom excused herself and took a walk because a handsome boy came to visit. He sat next to my bed with my hand in his while we watch The Empire Strikes Back on TV. I'd somehow never seen it before. I was thrilled that he not only made time for me before taking off out of town the next day but also that he was intent on being sure I saw that whole movie, hand in hand the entire time. Swoon!
As the summer days passed, I walked and regained my strength. I packed and shopped for dorm room supplies. And I finally left home for my new home in Aggieland. Yes, I was improved. Yes, I was off on a new adventure. And yes, I was powered by two stainless steel rods now straightening my spine. I could do anything!
Thinking back on it now, I see the tense parts of my parents' faces. They were scared, and rightly so! I was fine before surgery. This was in essence a preventative move, and what if it didn't work? What if something went wrong? What if? Mom and Dad put immense faith in the medical staff that this was the proper choice. Now, as a parent myself, I wonder how they did it. Where did they find the courage and conviction to know they were doing the right thing?
Today, I am still many degrees straighter than I used to be. I have all but forgotten about the eighteen inch scar running the length of my back. And if you tap me in just the right spot, I won't have a clue you are there! The evidence remains in some ways. The most prominent, though, is the knowledge that I could have grown more lopsided without surgery, inviting knee and hip problems like so many of my aunts endure now in their senior years. But I am straight---er. And I am healthy. And I owe so much of that to my parents.
I still haven't gone off in the metal detector at the airport, though. I'll have to work on that!
I have scoliosis. It evidently runs in the family. It spreads from girl to girl, generation to generation like chicken pox in a pre-vaccine kindergarten class. And I was fortunate enough to catch it like the others. It made my hips uneven so that jeans fit funny and those groovy 90's wide belts were always crooked on me.
I knew a little about scoliosis. My cousins who are eight and four years older than I am had surgery a decade before me. They spent weeks in the hospital. They wore body casts and then body braces. They did school from home for the better part of a year.
So when I learned that I had it too, I was petrified.
Luckily, medical technology is rather amazing! A mere ten years later meant that I spent under a week in the hospital with no cast or brace at all. Then, my therapy was to walk, increasing daily, until I could walk the campus on my first days of college. Incredible.
Many parts of that summer are still vivid in my mind. Mom and Dad taking me to be blessed before traveling to the hospital. Barely sleeping in the hotel the night before. Rising before the sun. Attempting to count backwards as the numbness crept in. And finally, waking.
After, they rolled me down the hallway, cautiously turning each corner. Ceiling tiles flickered overhead and then slowed as my parents approached, leaning over my gurney like vultures. Dad prodded me and joked, the way he always deals with tough situations. Mom patted me in her maternal, sensitive way and asked how I felt. In my hazy stupor, I replied, "It hurts like hell!" They both exploded into giggles. Letting any such four letter word slip from my innocent lips was highly unlike me back then.
Mom slept in my hospital room during my stay. One of those days, she laughed yet again when she realized I had stopped flicking channels and landed on a Spanish station. When she turned, I was zonked out asleep, remote in hand. Guess the surgery took a toll!
One night Mom excused herself and took a walk because a handsome boy came to visit. He sat next to my bed with my hand in his while we watch The Empire Strikes Back on TV. I'd somehow never seen it before. I was thrilled that he not only made time for me before taking off out of town the next day but also that he was intent on being sure I saw that whole movie, hand in hand the entire time. Swoon!
As the summer days passed, I walked and regained my strength. I packed and shopped for dorm room supplies. And I finally left home for my new home in Aggieland. Yes, I was improved. Yes, I was off on a new adventure. And yes, I was powered by two stainless steel rods now straightening my spine. I could do anything!
Thinking back on it now, I see the tense parts of my parents' faces. They were scared, and rightly so! I was fine before surgery. This was in essence a preventative move, and what if it didn't work? What if something went wrong? What if? Mom and Dad put immense faith in the medical staff that this was the proper choice. Now, as a parent myself, I wonder how they did it. Where did they find the courage and conviction to know they were doing the right thing?
Today, I am still many degrees straighter than I used to be. I have all but forgotten about the eighteen inch scar running the length of my back. And if you tap me in just the right spot, I won't have a clue you are there! The evidence remains in some ways. The most prominent, though, is the knowledge that I could have grown more lopsided without surgery, inviting knee and hip problems like so many of my aunts endure now in their senior years. But I am straight---er. And I am healthy. And I owe so much of that to my parents.
I still haven't gone off in the metal detector at the airport, though. I'll have to work on that!
I have a really hard time imagining your parents as vultures...
ReplyDelete