“An S-Shaped Curve” by Calvin Le, 17

A train ride is not always smooth. Train tracks are laid with precision, fastened tightly with screws and metal rods, but what happens when there is a sharp curve in the road that forces the train to diverge from its linear path? The train conductor must pivot and move the train to match the curve. In life, there is never one straight path; in fact, there are many curves that one may face. Oftentimes, they are forced to pivot along the curve and live throughout, while other times their whole life becomes derailed because of a curve in their journey.

My back is like a curved railroad; with its 48-degree angle, it curves and winds like as though it were a serpent. I live with adolescent idiopathic scoliosis, or simply scoliosis. This spinal disease is something that afflicts the lives of millions of people around the world. Many people do not have a perfect spine, with a small infraction of a few degrees being seen as minute. However, a curve that grows to be in the 40s, 50s, and beyond is what many deal with on the severe end of the spectrum. For many, this leads to breathing problems, limited mobility, and crushed organs. Dealing with scoliosis reminds me that the S-shaped curve in my back isn’t just a disease but also a symbol of my life, my resilience, and the hope that other idiopathic diseases like scoliosis could be better understood by others.

The earliest memories of my diagnosis came during my early teen years. I was around 13 years old when my mom would constantly ask why my back seemed to be so curved. We visited multiple doctors with little intervention or notice about what was going on with my body, but when I went through a large growth spurt, that was when the condition became a concern. After countless X-rays and doctor visits, I would be told I have idiopathic scoliosis. Idiopathic means a disease or condition in which the cause is unknown, and scoliosis refers to the curvature of the spine in an “S” or “C” shape. Numbness, blind-sightedness, and regret were all thoughts and emotions running through my head at the time. I can remember my parents arguing the night I was diagnosed, blaming each other for not taking better care of me and making me “imperfect.” But for me, I felt as though the blame was my fault, even if the cause of my condition was unknown. From the earliest days of my diagnosis to the final days before I undergo a spinal fusion surgery, approximately 4 years have passed. Each day in between felt like a constant reminder that I would never stand straight, that my ribs would always be sticking out of my clothes, or that my shoulders would never be even. Life from that point on felt isolating and suffocating, and I began to feel different from the other kids my age who were not as insecure about their bodies.

Then came the road trip. When people go on a road trip, they have bags filled with clothes and travel supplies. Wherever I went, I had to pack an extra bag, one that was filled with a cast mold of my torso. The difference between this cast and that of a sculpture is that this cast was padded with foam and metal hardware that was strapped to my body. It felt like I was wearing armor, yet this armor was protecting me from my own body. For over 20 hours a day, a child with scoliosis will wear a brace that compresses their body; they have to sleep with it and eat with it, and eventually it practically becomes a shell that is only taken off when you shower. The red marks and lines that appear after you take off the brace are a constant reminder of your condition. You become limited to wearing baggy clothing and covering yourself up in hopes that others won’t make comments about why your torso looks so bulky with a brace on. This brace felt like a torture device; it was a device that drained my confidence and livelihood.

On the other hand, when a brace no longer becomes effective, the most extreme measure is taken to fix an S-shaped curve. A spinal fusion is a type of surgery that is done to correct scoliosis. Metal rods and screws would be put inside a person’s body to straighten out their spine, holding it in place for life. The drawback of the surgery is the limited mobility. When comparing a fused spine to the tracks on a railroad, I see the familiar metals, screws, and bolts that have been laid and anchored deep for stability. But what I don’t see in a fused spine are turns and curves. Because, unlike a railroad, the fused section of a spine can no longer be curved. Once a spinal fusion is done, the parts of the spine that are fused no longer bend, rotate, or even grow. Despite their initial disbelief, my family always stood by my side; they wanted me to live a life without pain and regret. I knew then that even if I won't be able to bend like I used to, at least the S-shaped curve that has twisted and contorted my spine will be straightened out. This was the moment of acceptance and hope needed to drive me through the pain of living with scoliosis. Knowing that I had a support system that would cry for me, that would feel my pain indirectly, I knew I wanted to do whatever it took to keep on fighting.

A spine is not smooth, it is not flat, and it is certainly not always straight. My back is indeed like a railroad, but not a curved one anymore. My spine has been laid with screws and rods, precisely done by a surgeon. No longer curved, no longer causing pain, but like a train track, my spine acts as a railway, transporting memories of past trauma but also hope for a healthy future. The s-shaped curve that was once in my spine is not something that prevents me from living a happy life; the curve reminds me that sometimes it's okay to turn off the linear path, it's okay to take a different direction, but I will still end up living a fulfilling life that I have always dreamed of. Maybe one day, this idiopathic disease, along with many others, will finally be understood and prevented. By then, children would not have to live in a restrictive brace or have their backs fused with metal. I know others who have gone through similar experiences, but our imperfect backs do not prevent us from finding solace; rather, those who have their spines corrected with metal, whether through a brace or through surgery, all stand up taller, stronger, and more determined than ever to continue living life to its fullest.

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“Beneath My Sycamore” by Kahlila Ross

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“The White Pill” by Giselle Cartagena, 17