Straight Lines, Not a Straight Spine

Chapter 2:

Song choice: "This Is Me" by Kesha (Thank you Mrs. R. for a fight song).

Friday of that week, I was waiting in another waiting room. This time, I had "The Girl Who Drank the Moon" with me (great book, actually).

I texted my friends as soon as I'd gotten home. Tatianna-who I called Tati-asked me a few questions about it, but was overall cool with it. Some weren't able to text me back. My friends Heather and Anna, who played soccer with me (put for the 2005 team because I was a 2004 child, unlike the rest of my classmates) asked me after both of our practices, and I explained as much I possibly could quietly. I didn't want too many people knowing of my little defect.

I told my coaches, Coach John and Coach Joann, about it. I quickly explained afterwards that this was not going to affect my playing, as I only had to wear it eighteen and twenty hours a day. They nodded it away and were alright with it.

I told Robin and Brice (her last name, her first name is Kathrynn), who just shrugged; as long as I played with usual my "Little Beast" aggression (yeah, I accidently growled at a girl once, no joke) on defense, they were fine. The rest of the team would find out somehow. There was bound to be some tournament sometime.

It didn't take too long for the orthotist to be able to see me. It was certainly shorter than the time it took to be out of the waiting room to see Dr. Nyce.

The orthotist, who didn't mention his name (well, I forgot if he did), got right into telling me what the brace would do. There were three parts: the bottom would stabilize my hips, there would be a "window" for my left ribs so that they could grow back correctly, and a piece of plastic above the "window" so that the curve could be straightened out.

He gave me a white undershirt and told me to take off everything but my bra and underwear and put the white undershirt on over top of them. He left the room and shut the door.

I yanked the orange tank top with rainbow stripes (it was old; like I said, I barely had anything to wear) off and pulled my dark blue shorts off. The white undershirt was stretchy and long. I joked with Mom about it being "a new designer dress" and me, the model, showing it off for the world. I was funny when I could be. I pretended to pose for the camera.

Eventually, the orthotist came back and took measurements of everything. I hadn't known that the brace would not be covering my breasts (sorry, this is going to get even more awkward) so I had worn a bra with lots of padding. I felt a little awkward that the orthotist was measuring me, but I put on another brave face.

When he was finally finished, he left the room and instructed me to change back into my regular clothes. I quickly threw on my shirt and pulled up my shorts. I placed the stretchy white undershirt on the exam table thing (that padded bench in a doctor's exam room).

The orthotist came back once again and I asked if we had any questions. We didn't, so he told Mom that he would call to schedule an appointment to try on the brace.

He went over to a cabinet and shuffled through glossy papers. He finally pulled one out and told me that I could pick a color. I chose the one closest to my skin color (called "Caucasian"). I wanted to make sure no one could see it; white could easily be seen through a white shirt.

Once he put the papers back, he opened up another cabinet underneath the exam table. Out came a bubblegum pink back brace that was obviously meant for someone younger than me. He told us that we could look at it and that he was done.

Mom marveled at it. I was less than a centimeter of bubblegum pink plastic and blinding white padding. It seemed that her cousin's brace was a considerable bit larger (in width) than the one in front of us.

"Look how thin this is! Feel it!" Mom whispered like a toddler opening a Christmas present. "Jean's was much wider than this!"

Aunt Jean was Mom's cousin. She was the one who'd stopped her scoliosis with a back brace. I knew I'd have to talk to her soon about all this and show off my own brace to her.

When Mom was done obsessing over the little back brace, we left. I looked on the bright side (which I rarely do): this will be one of the hardest battles I will ever fight in; I'm going to become physically, emotionally, and mentally stronger. Not even a little bit of plastic and padding can stop me.

So, currently, I'm writing this about 9 months after each event. I'm hoping to catch up quickly.

I was up all night and morning and I don't feel tired. It's weird. My friend and I were texting forever about our Hamilton fanfics (hers were Lams and mine were Jeggy things).

Also, if you're following my "Metamorphmagus Hufflepuff Beater" series, I'm having trouble  getting inspiration so . . . (because I'm forever alone) (apparently I might not, but GemGirlLiberty won't let slip (I understand, she promised))

Anyway, I hope to find inspiration for things to write about for my journey with that brace. Thank you so much for reading this so far!