When I was in fifth grade, I missed the school scoliosis screenings. I didn’t think much of it—I was healthy, active, and didn’t feel like anything was wrong. But a couple of years later, in seventh grade, I started to notice something strange.

We were in PE class one day, and the teacher asked us all to stand flat against the gym wall. I remember turning around, trying to do it like everyone else, but I just… couldn’t. My shoulder blade on the right side stuck out awkwardly, and no matter how much I adjusted, I couldn’t make my back feel like it straight against the wall. Something that felt so simple to do felt uncomfortable for me—wrong, even—but I couldn’t figure out what exactly was going on. I just remember the quiet confusion on the teacher’s face as she saw me struggle, and this gnawing sense in my stomach that something wasn’t right.

My mom took me to the hospital for a check up shortly after. I got X-rays for my back, and that’s when we found out: I had scoliosis. A dramatic S-curve. Forty-five degrees at the top, bending to the right, and thirteen degrees at the bottom going the opposite direction. When I saw the image on the screen, I couldn’t believe that my spine looked like that under my skin. 

I didn’t know what to do with those feelings. I was scared. I was angry. I was insecure. I kept imagining people looking at me differently if they knew what my back looked like beneath my shirt. I started wearing a back brace—hard plastic, molded to my exact curve, like armor that didn’t protect but confined me. It wrapped around my torso and fastened tightly, forcing my body into a straighter position. The first time I put it on, I cried. It was uncomfortable, bulky, and it made me feel like a machine. I had to wear it for hours a day, hiding it under loose clothes and pretending I was fine.

It was hard—physically and emotionally. Things that I used to love were now tarnished by my fears of others noticing the curves in my spine. Ballet, especially, where I had to wear tight-fitting leotards with my back exposed, was extremely difficult to dance freely feeling the stares on my back. I felt disconnected from my body, like it had betrayed me somehow. It’s strange how much your spine controls your sense of self. I started slouching more, avoiding mirrors, hoping no one would notice the brace or the uneven way I walked sometimes. But even when people couldn’t see it, I could always feel it.

After a year, I stopped wearing the brace. The brace is only effective while you’re still in growth spurts, and by that point, my growth had plateaued. In a weird way, I was relieved—finally free from the brace—but it also left me with a sense of unfinished business. My spine was still curved. But I have something now that is greater than the pain that came with scoliosis. I learned what exercises were effective in strengthening my back and I now have a greater determination to help other adolescents who feel lost when they first get diagnosed with scoliosis. 

I sometimes wonder how things might’ve been different if my scoliosis had been caught earlier—if I had made that fifth-grade screening, if I’d known what signs to look for, if someone had told me what scoliosis even was before it showed up on an X-ray. That “what if” stayed with me. It made me think about how many other kids might be walking around with undiagnosed scoliosis, brushing off symptoms they don’t even realize are symptoms.

That’s why I built this site—not just to tell my story, but to create something I wish had existed when I needed it most. A place where awareness leads to action. A place that makes early screening feel less like an afterthought and more like a priority.

IT ALL STARTED WHEN I WAS 15 YEARS OLD..

As I ventured onto the nearby soccer field, I had intended to stay put — shooting at goal until dusk dawned upon me. Despite my stubborn yet enthusiastic attitude, my stay was sharply cut short. After a simple misstep, an unfamiliar and foreign pain pulsed through my muscles and along my spine. At that moment — I collapsed along the green grass, almost paralyzed, unable to move. After some time had passed, these episodes became a growingly familiar occurrence. However, despite the recurring pain, I still had no idea what was going on with my body. Each time, I thought it was a muscle spasm because I forgot to stretch or something but boy was I wrong.

Two months had passed and I still felt the same radiating pain again. At this point, I think this excruciating discomfort is something much more significant than some sort of muscle spasm or cramp. The situation was becoming dire and the fact that I had no idea what was bothering me made it even more terrifying. It got to a point where I had had enough, it was time to get to the bottom of this irritation.

I will never forget how I felt on the day I was diagnosed with Scoliosis. As my doctor switched on the backlight onto my X-ray, a world of pain dawned upon me. However, perhaps what was even more surprising than the fact that seeing my spine was deformed in the shape of a "S", was the fact that I felt rather relieved. After 3 months of constant pain, collapses and breakdowns, I had finally figured out what had been irritating me. An idiopathic spinal deformity that would change my life forever. In due course, this short-lived relief turned into a long 10 months of excruciating pain for not only me but also my family.

As soon as I heard the news, my parents were torn in the argument of surgery versus no surgery. Should I get my whole spine fused from top to bottom in a 10-hour surgery that might put me into paralysis? Or should I try to maintain my curve and stop it from worsening through physical therapy? Initially, we tried to avoid surgery at all costs and went through with physical therapy or a “spine bootcamp” as they call it. In this camp, I spent six hours a day in different traction machines that were made to stretch and loosen my spine and somehow help correct my 72-degree thoracic curve and 82-degree lumbar curve. Long story short, this was all a fruitless attempt as my lumbar and thoracic curvatures rampantly continued to grow. My curves were far too large to be corrected by therapy or the use of a brace therefore, my family’s only option was that terrifying almost hell-like surgery. If I didn’t go through with the surgery, the pain would persist and my spinal curve could progress to the point where it could affect my breathing. Tough situation huh?

June 23, 2016, will forever remain a pivotal day in my life. I not only went through with the horrifying surgery and had two cobalt chrome rods with 23 screws put into my back but it was also when I realised how fragile my life was. Despite encountering so many obstacles along the way, I was always in the best hands. Although I had to learn how to walk again and couldn’t breathe properly for months after surgery, I always had the support and prayers of those around me which ultimately helped me overcome my deformity. Now almost one year on from surgery, thanks to them, I am living without suffering and I have embarked on the road to being as normal as one can expect. I am no longer experiencing pain, and no longer dealing with the uncertainty of the outcome of spinal surgery. I am no longer restricted by scoliosis.

The Scoliosis Project was born out of this very experience. I am a real-life testament to what a successful spinal surgery can do and I want to provide the same opportunity I had to those who can’t afford it. Trust me, spinal fusion surgery is a life-changing event and for the better. Having been given this fresh lease in life, my aim now is to help one needy person gain access to this surgery.

So, join me on this incredible journey to stand up STRAIGHT to scoliosis!