The Girl with the Scarf

One of the things I love about being a pediatric physical therapist is the opportunity I have to create an incredible bond with children and their families. When I treat the same child once or twice a week for over a year, I know pretty much everything going on in the family’s life. Likewise, the parents learn tidbits about my life. Recently, some of the parents of my patients have noticed all the braces I wear, and we have a comfortable enough relationship that they comment on it; sometimes it is out of curiosity, but more often it is out of concern for my wellbeing. Since I don’t want to worry them (either with the future of their sometimes hypermobile child or with my ever-dwindling physical ability to care for their child) I usually just bluff and tell them it is just an old gymnastics injury acting up. 

Yesterday, the mom of a child who I have been treating for 14 months, who I have a very chatty relationship with, aptly said to me, “You know that story about the girl with the scarf she always wears? That’s what you and all your braces remind me of!”

I burst out laughing. “Yeah, that’s kind of what it feels like,” I told her. 

You know the childhood story. A girl always wears a scarf around her neck - in some iterations it is green, in others it is red. She lives her whole life wearing the scarf. She goes to school, she plays, she grows up, she falls in love, she gets married, she gets old, she never takes off the scarf. And as she is on her death bed, having lived a long happy life, her husband asks her, “Please, can you take off the scarf? Why do you wear it?” So she takes off the scarf, and her head falls off. 

For whatever reason, the story stuck with me through my entire childhood and into adulthood. It stuck with me to the point that, as president of my college a cappella group back as a student at the University of Maryland (called Mezumenet, they rock, give those girls a listen!), I implemented an infamous rule prohibiting wearing scarves on stage during performances. I didn’t realize it then, but that very story is a perfect analogy for my body.

Each brace I wear serves the purpose of supporting and protecting my unstable joints. Since the collagen my body produces doesn’t quite do the job of holding me together as it is supposed to in healthy connective tissue, I rely heavily on my external braces and splints. They are my lifeline. When I remove them, I feel like jello. And let me tell you, jello does not make a good PT. 

Often, I find myself sick of wearing my braces and splints. They inflame my dermatographia. They get sweaty and gross and I forget to wash them (or can’t wash them because they won’t be dry enough to wear the next day when I need them). They get caught on my clothes. They put me in a position that, for better or for worse, my invisible illness becomes visible. They force me to field questions about my health. They give me love handles or other rolls of fat and feed my body image issues. Frankly, they suck.

But I need them. They are the most important tool for me to get through a day of work, a long walk, a hike, a workout. They drive me nuts, but they literally hold me together. So I put on my "Hello, nice to meet you" smile and wear them, because I want to be as functional as I can be. 

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