Beyond the x-ray: scoliosis awareness

Art by Grace Gill

Everyone goes through challenges in life— some more visible than others. Often, we choose to keep our struggles hidden to avoid the weight they carry, but sometimes, these challenges become so overwhelming that they begin to define us. I know this firsthand, as do many others who have faced similar experiences. One such challenge that has profoundly shaped my life is being diagnosed with severe scoliosis.

You might have never heard of scoliosis, as it’s not widely talked about in everyday conversations; it's a condition in which the spine curves abnormally, and it can range from mild to very severe. A curvature between 10° and 25° is considered mild and is the most common. A curve between 25° and 40° is moderate, and anything over 40° often requires bracing, physical therapy, or even surgery. Very severe scoliosis, over 60°, typically requires surgery due to increased health risks, including potential heart and lung complications. In the most serious cases, the spinal curve alters the shape of the ribcage and compresses internal organs which impact their function.

Scoliosis most often affects children between the ages of 10 and 15, particularly during puberty, when the body is going through rapid growth. Idiopathic scoliosis, the most common form, appears without a known cause; however, research suggests a strong genetic component. Studies also show that scoliosis progresses more quickly in girls than in boys. Although it can be manageable in some cases through physical therapy and bracing, others, like mine, require surgical intervention: Gender Disparity: Why Is Scoliosis More Common In Females?

Surgery for scoliosis typically involves spinal fusion, where bone grafts (often from donors) are used to help the vertebrae heal together into a single solid bone which stabilizes the spine. Surgeons also place rods and screws in the back to reshape and straighten the spinal column. Depending on the severity of the curvature, surgery can last anywhere from two and a half to seven hours. While the procedure is complex, it can significantly improve both spinal alignment and quality of life: Bone Grafts in Spine Surgery.

Impacts on the Lungs

Scoliosis can significantly affect lung function, especially in severe cases. When the spine curves abnormally, it can push the ribs inward toward the lungs which restricts their ability to fully expand. This makes it difficult to take deep breaths and lowers overall lung capacity. Since the lungs can’t expand properly, the body receives less oxygen, and can lead to fatigue and shortness of breath— especially during physical activity.

Over time, this limited lung function can also increase the risk of respiratory infections. Poor lung expansion may cause mucus buildup in the lungs, making conditions like pneumonia more likely. From my personal experience, I know how limiting this can be. Something as simple as walking up a flight of stairs at school became one of the most exhausting parts of my day— I would feel winded and out of breath after just a few steps.

Impacts on the Heart

Scoliosis can also affect the heart; as the spine curves, it compresses the ribcage and lungs which, in turn, forces the heart to work harder to pump oxygen-rich blood throughout the body. This extra strain can lead to complications like right-sided heart failure over time. In very extreme cases, the spine may physically press on the heart, disrupting blood flow and leading to symptoms such as palpitations, fatigue, or dizziness.

Some individuals with scoliosis— especially those with congenital forms— may also be born with underlying heart defects. However, in most cases of mild to moderate scoliosis, heart function is typically unaffected. Still, for those with more serious cases like mine, the risks and challenges are very real and require careful monitoring and treatment.

Surgery process

I recently had the opportunity to shadow a spinal surgery at Children’s Hospital Los Angeles which gave me an inside look into what actually happens in an operating room. I had some idea of what to expect, but the experience still surprised me— it was both intense and inspiring. One of the first things I noticed was how collaborative the entire team was. Everyone— from the lead surgeon to the surgical tech— worked together in a synchronized and respectful way, creating an environment where patient safety and teamwork were the top priorities.

When I first walked into the OR, I was struck by how clinical and bright everything was. The room was sterile, spacious, and filled with specialized equipment: surgical lights, ventilators, monitoring machines, and a large screen that displayed a live feed of the procedure. I wasn’t overly nervous, but there was a definite sense of awe. Despite the seriousness of what was happening, the atmosphere was surprisingly calm and even upbeat. Music played in the background—something I later learned is common in many operating rooms to help maintain focus and reduce stress among staff. Dr. Heffernan, the lead surgeon, had a playlist on, and the team talked and laughed as they worked, keeping things professional but human.

I had the chance to speak with several medical professionals during the procedure, including anesthesiologists, nurses, neurophysiologists, and the surgeons themselves. Each person had a specialized role, but they all shared the same goal: to ensure the patient’s safety and the surgery’s success. For example, the anesthesiologist carefully monitored the patient’s vital signs and adjusted medication to keep them sedated and stable. The neurophysiologist used advanced monitoring systems to track the electrical activity in the patient’s spinal cord and nerves, which helps prevent nerve damage during spinal surgeries. I learned that intraoperative neuromonitoring (IONM) is crucial during spine surgeries, especially scoliosis corrections, to ensure that no nerve pathways are compromised. The nurses and surgical assistants were incredibly organized and attentive, handing tools to the surgeon and maintaining sterile technique at all times.

What stood out to me most was how much communication and trust goes into a successful operation. Every movement was calculated, every instruction clear. It made me realize how much training and coordination are required to work in this kind of high-pressure environment. A spinal fusion surgery, like the one I observed, can last anywhere from 4 to 8 hours, depending on the complexity of the curvature and the number of vertebrae involved. Titanium rods and screws are implanted to stabilize the spine, and bone grafts are used to promote fusion between vertebrae. Recovery for patients can take several months, and while it improves posture and reduces pain, it also requires long-term follow-up and physical therapy.

Seeing the process firsthand made me admire the medical professionals even more. It also deepened my own understanding of what I went through as a scoliosis patient and strengthened my desire to one day pursue a career in medicine. Witnessing a real surgery and learning from those in the field helped me see how science, compassion, and human connection come together in healthcare.

Personal experiences 

After being diagnosed with scoliosis, it can feel like something you can just brush off. It’s there, but you don’t really pay attention to it—until someone points it out. Whether it’s a family member or a friend telling you, “Sit up straight,” or “Stop slouching,” you try to do what they say, only for them to say it again minutes later. Trying to explain that you're doing your best can become frustrating, and eventually, you can’t ignore it anymore. To most people, scoliosis doesn’t seem serious—until you’re told you need surgery. I know that firsthand.

For some, surgery isn’t necessary; scoliosis can often be managed with physical therapy, bracing, or targeted exercises. But in my case, it had progressed too far for those options to be effective.

I was first diagnosed when I was 11, after a visit to a physical therapist. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t until high school, when I began experiencing persistent back pain, that I asked my mom to take me back to the hospital. We got X-rays done, and when I saw them, I actually giggled. I didn’t fully understand what I was looking at or how serious it was. I expected the doctor to recommend a back brace or therapy—definitely not surgery.

But that’s exactly what I was told. The doctor came in, put the X-ray up on the screen, and said bluntly: “You need surgery. There’s nothing else you can do.” I went pale. Everything became a blur—I couldn’t really hear or process anything until we got to the car. The worst part wasn’t just the diagnosis—it was what came after. The doctor told me, “You probably won’t get that sports scholarship you were hoping for.” That hurt more than anything.

Things changed when I transferred to Children’s Hospital Los Angeles. I was nervous walking in, wondering if the new doctor would say the same thing. But from the moment we arrived, the atmosphere was completely different. The staff was kind and welcoming. After another round of X-rays, we waited in a room to meet the surgeon. Then the door opened and in came Dr. Michael Heffernan with a big smile, greeting us with, “Hello, fellow humans!”—loud, confident, and nothing like what I expected from a surgeon.

He reviewed my scans and explained things clearly and calmly. While I still needed surgery, he reassured me that my life would return to normal after recovery. He also said the previous doctor might have overstated the severity. That conversation made me feel safe, seen, and hopeful.

I waited nearly a year for the surgery, attending regular checkups. Thankfully, my curve didn’t progress too quickly. When the day finally came, I was nervous—but honestly, my mom was more anxious than I was. I was calm, ready to be done with the constant pain.

The surgery lasted nine hours—longer than I expected. The anesthesia left me groggy, but I wasn’t as nauseous as I feared. My first thought after waking up was to call my best friend Delilah to tell her I had made it through. I stayed in the hospital for three days. On the first night, I sat up. By the next day, I was walking laps around the hospital.

Those few days were filled with hospital food and, strangely enough, the best apple juice I’ve ever tasted. I still think about that apple juice. When I returned home, reality set in. Sleeping was difficult, and walking was painful at first. My sleep schedule was all over the place. My doctors recommended walking every day to rebuild strength and mobility, and while it was hard at first, I gradually improved. Within two weeks, I was moving better than I imagined I would.

This experience made me deeply grateful for my support system—especially my mom and family. It wasn’t an easy time for us, but we got through it together. It’s an experience I’ll carry with me forever—literally, in my back, and emotionally in everything I do.

Reed's Story

When talking to one of my teachers about my upcoming surgery, he brought up the fact that one of his nephews had gone through the same experiences. I had never met anyone else with scoliosis or had a conversation, so I decided to interview him to get a different point of view other than my own. His name is Reed.

When Reed was first diagnosed with scoliosis in 7th grade, doctors confirmed a 22-degree spinal curve. At the time, he thought it might improve with time and bodywork therapy—but it didn’t. By age 17, he was living with chronic pain, and by 18, his curvature had progressed to 60 degrees, requiring spinal fusion surgery.

“I didn’t really notice it before the diagnosis, but my mom definitely did. She was scared and became extra cautious— trying everything from massage to other treatments, but nothing helped.” - Reed

He was given a year to prepare for surgery, with checkups every three months. The operation lasted nine hours and was performed at UCSF. Recovery included six weeks in bed, no heavy lifting, and daily walks—often with his arm around his mom for support. “Waking up, it felt like my back was tied to a pole,” he said. “It was the worst pain I’d ever felt, especially that first week.”

Despite the physical and emotional toll, Reed kept a lighthearted attitude. “I was more confident in the surgery than I probably should’ve been,” he laughed. He remembered trying to apply for a job at Baskin-Robbins but had to skip it because he couldn’t lift the ice cream tubs.

Still, he found moments of joy—like attending a music festival featuring 21 Savage—to remind himself of what normalcy could look like. “Santa Cruz was my light at the end of the tunnel,” he said, referring to the community of support he found outside of his family.

Now, Reed lives with some numbness in parts of his back, but the surgery helped prevent his condition from worsening. “Yoga is something they told me to do,” he emphasized. “If I could give any advice, it’s to take those school scoliosis screenings seriously. That’s how I found out. We need that in every school in America.”