scoliosis

Fifteen years ago this week, I was lying in a Manhattan hospital recovering from a back surgery that almost killed me. Yes, the brilliant doctor who straightened my crooked spine and changed my life was white. But the people who got me through the day-to-day did not speak English as their first language. And to a one, they were superb. Julio, was my very own ICU recovery nurse who brought me ice chips and spoke words of comfort and reassurance when I woke up intubated and wit

“Oh my God, are you Gussie’s daughter??” The teacher looks at me with a pained expression. “Wow. Who would have thought it?” High school gym class. Ninth grade. Klutzy incompetent me whose spine was just beginning to twist itself into what would be spectacular scoliosis forced to shoot basketball drills with nary a swish through the hoop. Back in the days before self-esteem was a revered educational buzzword. So humiliated I can still remember the incident forty years later.