One shadow. That was all it took to upset the rhythm of my life.
There were whispers after one of my twice-yearly echo-cardiograms. Something wasn’t right.
I was introduced to the X-ray machine and then to a spine doctor. As a teen I was actually allowed to see the X-ray and hear the doctor’s diagnosis: the whitish-gray shadow was my spine twisted into an S-shape. My scoliosis required surgery the doctor stated and he described a 12-hour procedure that involved attaching two metal rods to my spine.
To me it sounded unappealing. To my doctor-wary mother it was out of the question. Why would she put her delicate daughter through this tough surgery? A local chiropractor helped her silence any doubts and encouraged her calling the surgery “barbaric.” As I buried myself in novels about superheroes who saved people from danger at the last moment my mother began the frantic search for an alternative treatment for my scoliosis.
