The doctor said, “wear this or get a surgery”. That day was the beginning of my doom; making it more difficult to do simple daily tasks. Within the first hour I noticed I could no longer sit comfortably; the brace was very hot and unforgiving making life miserable. The next day I tried to participate in the gym, running out of breath; I could no longer do any of the stretches, or participate in most of the stuff that happened during the day. To this day the doctor only allows me to have it off for six hours, including shower time and band, plaguing me with heat, and preventing me from cooling down; I am forbidden to get it wet, as it will ruin the material.

A few months later I began to avoid wearing the death trap fairly religiously, which continues to this day; as unforgiving as the brace is to wear, it’s not very encouraging to do so. Mother pesters me about it every now and then, telling me I need it as the curves in my spine are proceeding to worsen. However it’s hard to wear, it limits my breathing and ability to eat to my content. I hate my brace and everything to do with it, but I need it and it helps with the pains I get every now and then; such as when I overwork, or don’t wear it.

I had a check-up at the doctors not long after I began avoiding it. Much to my horror my spine now had a third curve. I remember the doctor looking me in the eyes; disappointment was the expression he wore. I knew what that look had meant, it had signified my last chance to wear the brace, or life was going to get far more difficult. It’s been three and a half years now, I still have trouble wearing my brace religiously. This being said I know the consequences, however I have not the ambition to pursue the preventative solution. As I sit here writing this thinking over my decisions, I could have played this a lot better. My parents and doctor have done everything to pursue any ambition within me to wear my brace; they have tried everything from scaring me with the idea of surgery, to pure looks of disappointment along with a swift punishment for not wearing it. I wish that I had played my cards better, in this demented game, which will end in my misery, and a surgery to accompany it.