Yesterday, I sat down with yet another doctor to talk about the story of this curve.
About how a titanium rod was screwed in to help straighten it when I was a freshman in high school. About how a decade later, I felt a frightening snap. About how after going from doctor to doctor to doctor — begging for months for someone to figure out why I was suddenly in so much pain — I woke up one morning and couldn’t move my knee. Then later felt a mysterious bump. Then, after being told by multiple doctors “not to worry about it”, eventually discovered that half of my scoliosis rod had somehow broken off…and (unheard of) come unscrewed…and (crazier yet) “migrated” down past dozens of critical organs, where it was lodged in my calf muscle.
Yyyyeah.
The radiologists clustered around the x-ray machine that day told me it was impossible. The nurses told me it was a miracle that I was alive. The orthopedic surgeon on call broke the news that — contrary to what we had originally been told — my spinal fusion a decade before had actually failed, leaving my spine unstable. But that unfortunately, it was too dangerous to re-operate and see if the remaining half of the rod was still screwed in tightly.
Ever since, this curve has haunted me. I try hard not to think much about it. But every time my back pops, or I twist an inch too far in yoga, or think about the next 5…15…50 years, I worry about that rod. And say my thousandth prayer that it stays snugly in place.
Ever since, this curve also just hurts. Most days, it’s a chronic ache that I’ve learned over the years to live with. Some days when I push too hard, it lights my entire back on fire and clears my calendar. Some days I forget all about it, although those days are fewer as I grow older.
Ever since, this curve is also my most visible reminder of the sheer preciousness of life. I used to look in the mirror and only see asymmetry and scars. But today, I see a strong body that still gives me the extravagant gift of being able to walk, travel, do my job, and go on living.
It’s the one precious body I’ve been given. And even though we’ve had a complicated relationship, I’m learning how to fear it less and love it more. And be so very grateful. ♡
This post made my eyes water, thinking about what you go through, and the attitude you’ve held onto that drives you to live your life the way you do. Truly, truly inspiring. Thank you for sharing.
when you get back to the USA, try considering doing a great FOOD exploration tour of the South and exploring visiting a physician in birmingham AL for a second or third opinion-Bham is my hometown and a great area for exploring local food culture and look into Bham area
physicians. so many great ortho docs there and a teaching hospital(UAB) as well as andrews ortho practice(many pro and college athletes go there for surgery/support) supports the huge college and high school/pro (they travel to bham) athletic community! bless you
God bless you with good health and much less pain!
“Yyyeah” summed it up so well. I’m so sorry. What a beautiful picture of this part of your story. My best wishes for you.
So beautifully written.
Oh Ali, I’m so sorry for the pain you have had to endure. Your gratitude for the body you have been given is inspiring. It certainly makes me think twice about any kind of small pain I may be complaining about. Sending the biggest hugs your way!
You are just amazing!! Just spoke to our friend who was told he was going to die in a few months from cancer. Went to Mayo Clinic and the prognosis is much better, I know he’ll beat it. Mentioning only as somebody else mentioned Mayo Clinic, He said they were a league above the rest! Something to consider.
Stay positive, strong and beautiful, cause you are!!
I just spent two months at Mayo and it was the most wonderful experience. I would check it out if you can. They seem to have it all together in the medical world!!! Good luck to you….pain can really pull a person down….keep that sweet smile going. Linda from ks
My heart squeezed in so many ways for you. I had a cervical fusion at 40 on 3 levels and know what it means when you feel on fire all appointments or work is canceled. I also know the joy of every step I take because it could have been so much worse in a wheelchair or walker. I know I am blessed and so are you. Keep fighting my love, you are not alone in this fight.
You are my hero! Stay strong.