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imagine-loki · 6 years

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Packless Monsters

TITLE: Packless Monsters CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 42/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you’re a werewolf who ends up in the company of Loki in the Avenger’s tower after saving Pepper’s life RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 click here

“Darling, are you sure about this?” Loki asked as you were finishing getting ready for the fight. You were in the living room of the tower surrounded by the team. You weren’t really actively doing anything to get ready, you were already dressed in comfortable yoga pants, a sports bra, t-shirt, and hoodie, plus your gym shoes. You had to sit quietly while Nat and Clint finished working on your hair. They had done some excellently awesome braiding with your hair so it wouldn’t fall in your face or be a handhold for Jareth during the battle. They were also spraying it with so much hairspray that there was a snowball’s chance in hell that your hair was ever moving again.

While they worked, you were thoroughly distracted by a very smug god who was purposely distracting you so you didn’t worry over the fight. Smug bastard. He was doing it so…innocently too, since he was just finishing getting dressed. He had donned the shirt, pants, and shoes of his favorite all-black suit with magic, but he was enjoying teasing you, as he put on the rest the mortal way. His long, strong fingers fastened the cuff links with the fluidity of a long-practiced movement. He smirked as you watched him expertly tie his tie. Damn smug Trickster knew your love of him in formal wear and could somehow look nearly as sexy putting it on as… the other thing that you couldn’t think about right now.

“Lo, you know I have to do this now,” you reminded him, forcing your focus on things other than your boyfriend’s physique. You could see that he was more worried than he wanted to let on. “Samuel will be there to ref, but if I don’t fight Jareth now, he’ll challenge me in a less controlled way later,”

“I know, darling. I still worry. I dislike that you will be in danger I cannot help you with and likely injured,” Loki told you as he shrugged into his suit jacket. Damn sexy distracting god. At least you weren’t stressing about the fight, which had been his intention.

“Brother, why are you dressed as a witch for this event?” Thor asked, concerned.

“Hey!” Loki protested grumpily. “I am not dressed as a witch,” he grumbled. Your hair was finally deemed done, so you stood and went to Loki. You couldn’t help yourself after his teasing and grabbed his tie, pulling him down so you could kiss him. Somehow he hadn’t expected it and you heard his soft moan as your mouth forcefully met his.

You could tease him too.

You kissed him for a long moment before you finally let his tie go and let him straighten. You straightened his tie and smoothed out his already perfectly smooth suit jacket. You felt like a ragamuffin next to him in your sweat pants.

“It’s a power move,” Nat supplied. Loki inclined his head, looking impressed with her assessment.

“What?” Cap demanded.

“Werewolves are obsessed with dominance games. Loki is showing he isn’t afraid for Y/N’s safety. He’s not wearing his battle armor. He’s giving her an edge in the dominance game,” Nat explained.

“You can’t really expect Jareth to believe your literal god of a protector isn’t worried, or going to jump in if things go horribly wrong,” Clint protected.

“Of course not,” you replied, buttoning Loki’s suit jacket for him. He gave you a knowing smirk and you stuck your tongue out at him. “But he doesn’t look like he’ll step in and fight either. He’ll stand on the sidelines and look like a slightly worried mate. It’s what’s expected. Stop worrying,” you added for the benefit of the team. You still had to hug them all before they’d calm. “I feel underdressed,” you whined as you took Loki’s arm. He chuckled and kissed the top of your head.

“I will take you out somewhere nice after this so you can dress up too, little wolf,” he promised kindly.

“You may have to wait a few days,” you reminded him, getting worried again. You weren’t going to get out of this fight without any injuries. There was no way.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine, darling,” he reminded you warmly. “Samuel and I will both be there. We best get going, though. Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,”

You said goodbye to the team and Loki teleported you both to the site for the battle. It was a wide open area in the middle of nowhere, but nothing more than a patch of dirt, completely barren of anything but the werewolves and the Loki who were gathering. It was another power move to arrive under the power of a god. You stood up on your toes to kiss Loki before you made your way over to Samuel, Jareth, and Jareth’s witness. You glared when you realized that Jareth’s witness was your brother, Dan. That was one power move for Jareth, forcing your brother to act as his witness.

Asshole.

“About time,” Jareth snarled at you when you were standing just on the other side of Samuel from him. He was trying to pull a power play for beating you here. He must have been nervous to try so hard. You were outshining him on the dominance games and he knew it.

Loki calmly pulled a pocket watch from his pocket. You didn’t know where the watch had come from. He’d never appeared to have one before. “We still have twenty minutes,” Loki told Jareth calmly as he snapped the watch shut again and slipped it back in his pocket.

“The witness is correct. However, since everyone is here, let’s begin,” you all nodded, ready to get this over with. “I invoke the silence for this dominance challenge,” Samuel announced. Pack magic flew over the battleground. You didn’t dare look at Loki, didn’t dare expose that he might be weak to pack magic. You had to trust that the charm of your hair was enough to protect him. It worked before. There was no reason it wouldn’t work now. “Jareth, Y/N, get ready for the fight,” Samuel ordered. You nodded and turned your back to Jareth, trusting Samuel to watch your back.

Loki gave you a small, reassuring smile. You returned the smile as you toed off your shoes. Your socks followed, stuffed into your shoes. You unzipped your hoodie and slipped it off, handing it to Loki when he held out his hands for it. You slipped off your shirt and it went on top of the hoodie. Werewolf rules for combat were weird and insisted that combatants not wear shirts. You carefully removed your necklace, bracelet, and ring and handed them to Loki. “Keep these safe for me?” you asked as he took them.

“Of course, darling,” he replied warmly and bent to kiss you. “Kick his ass,” he told you softly.

“I fully intend to,” you told him with a smirk. You called the wolf to the front and let the partial shift take over. Your eyes, teeth, and claws all shifted, plus the wolf ears on top of your head.

Loki smiled warmly, lovingly at you, even at your hybrid form. “Kick his ass, Lady Wolf.” He repeated for the wolf’s benefit. You felt her pleasure at being spoken to and accepted by her chosen mate. She took control to grab Loki’s tie again and kiss him. She quite enjoyed doing that. He had the best moans of pleasure when she, or you, did.

“Stay safe, mate,” she told him firmly when she let him go.

“As my lady wishes,” he replied with a grin.

You turned back to face Jareth, who was similarly shirtless and in hybrid form. You had to admit that your mom was right and he was attractive. He held no candle to Loki, though, especially when his personality was shit. Samuel gestured to the witnesses to step back and they both backed a safe distance from the battle. They weren’t supposed to be part of this except to stand witness. “This is a fight for dominance. It shall continue until one of you yields, cannot continue, or perishes,” Samuel announced formally. He went over the boring details as protocol dictated. Samuel finally took a step back. “The niceties must be observed,” he announced.

It took every ounce of your willpower to give Jareth the bow that protocol demanded. He did the same and you saw the malicious smirk on his face. It was nowhere near as intimidating as Loki’s. You’d had Loki’s turned on you before. Your own expression was delighted anticipation. You were looking forward to kicking Jareth’s ass thoroughly.

Samuel took another step back. “Ready?” he asked you both. You nodded, neither taking the eyes off the other. You stepped backwards into a fighting stance, Jareth did the same. He rushed you the moment Samuel said “Begin”

You knew the second Jareth moved that you had this fight. Jareth was big and muscled, but he was slow, depending solely on his strength. He could fight and fight well, but he was used to fighting big muscled thugs like himself. He didn’t know how to fight you. He wasn’t expecting you to have any clue what you were doing, though he had watched you train for years. He still underestimated you. He also had not been training with the Aesir for months.

You had, and Loki had taught you well.

You moved as a blur, ducking and dodging out of the way of his blows, watching as he got more and more frustrated that he wasn’t connecting with you. You darted in, jabbed a few hard blows to soft spots and darted back out again before he could move to stop you or hit you. You were fast and good at what you were doing. He was bleeding from your claws, bruised from your blows, cracked ribs, but you hadn’t gotten a good enough blow in to take him down yet.

That didn’t mean you didn’t get hit too. You had a couple bruises already, claw marks across your stomach, a cracked rib from a kick you took poorly, a nasty gash down your arm. Jareth caught a lucky punch to your eye, you spun, reeling from the blow and let yourself fall and roll to get some distance while you cleared the black spots from your vision. They weren’t clearing. Shit. You were also bleeding and the blood threatened to get into your eye.

You needed to end this quickly before Jareth got lucky again.

He charged you again, thinking you were down. This was your chance. You swept his legs out from under him, used a nasty, nasty trick from Nat to severely damage a very precious piece of his anatomy. (You could hear the hisses of sympathy pain from every male watching) Jareth was whimpering in pain as you straddled his chest, your claws at his throat ready to rip his throat out. “Surrender!” you ordered him in a snarl. You were too good for your own well being and had to give him the option to surrender. Honor demanded it.

Fucking honor.

“Never, bitch!” he snarled.

“She has won!” Samuel announced, stepping forward to forcibly end the conflict if Jareth wouldn’t.

Jareth roared as he picked you up and threw you hard toward Dan. You spun in midair, using yet another trick from Nat to land on your feet.

You were too slow.

Too, too slow.

Everyone was too slow.

You roared in anger, pain, uncontrolled rage as you ran for Jareth.

You were too slow.

Everything was in slow motion.

Jareth was charging, but not at you.

He charged Loki.

Samuel roared for him to stop and started forward to stop Jareth.

Loki stepped back, dropping your clothes as he fell automatically into a fighting stance preparing for impact.

You threw every ounce of speed you could into your charge for Jareth.

You

Were

Too

Slow

Jareth changed forms between one step and the next.

Loki tried to change tactics. Fighting a human was different than fighting a wolf.

Even he was too slow.

He managed to get an arm up to protect his face as the wolf leapt for him.

“NO!” you shrieked and grabbed Jareth around the middle, digging in your heels to try to stop his forward momentum.

You were too late.

Jareth’s teeth were already deep in Loki’s arm.

Loki’s blood was pouring. He howled in rage and pain and your heart fell. Loki was doomed, one way or the other by that wound. Either to death or life as a monster.

Jareth was human a moment later and threw you from him. You stumbled and landed hard on your ass. “Your boyfriend is dead, bitch,” Jareth snarled at you.

You roared in anger and jumped back to your feet. You grabbed Jareth again and threw him, hard, away from your Loki, who had daggers in both of his hands. You took a dagger from Loki, who wisely didn’t resist you, and charged Jareth. You slashed viciously, fueled by rage, fueled by pain, by grief. You saw Jareth’s shocked expression at the rage in your eyes, at the power of your wolf that he had never felt before.

He didn’t understand Omegas.

Omegas had power, the same power as an Alpha. You weren’t a submissive. The only difference was that you didn’t fight for the pack as a whole. You fought for its members.

Jareth

Hurt

Your

Pack

He was going to die.

Everyone else was frozen, staring in awe at the power of an enraged Omega.

No one ever saw an Omega enraged. They were the peace of the pack. The pack did its absolute best to keep the Omega happy and peaceful so they would share their peace with the pack.

No one dared anger an Omega.

This was why.

Jareth couldn’t keep up with your rage as you sliced at him, moving with the speed of long months of training with the Aesir. He was bleeding from a dozen wounds when he fell again. He couldn’t even fight back you were moving too fast, too full of anger, rage, power, and grief.

The wolf took charge and did exactly what you’ve been saying for months that you would do to Jareth if he ever touched you again. It was she who grabbed his balls in her claws. She who ripped them from their proper place and shoved them down his throat while he howled.

You took control again, straddling his waist, your dagger to his throat. “You have broken pack law, Jareth, Alpha of the Hudson river pack. You have attempted to turn an individual against his will. For your crimes, I sentence you to die, as is my right and my duty,” you snarled the ritual words.

“A moment, Lady,” Loki said pleasantly, before you could slash the blade across Jareth’s throat. You paused, raising an eyebrow as he stepped over to you. “I did make you a promise of a gift,” he reminded you too politely, too kindly. You sat up a little, keeping your dagger at Jareth’s throat. He was whimpering in pain and fear, which only increased as Loki knelt next to him with a proper malicious grin on his face. Loki calmly reached into Jareth’s chest, his hand simply passing through flesh and bone, and removed Jareth’s still beating heart. “I will keep this safe for you, darling,” Loki told you pleasantly as he stood again. “Carry on,” Jareth was fighting for breath, staring at his heart in Loki’s hand. He was going to die anyway without that, but you were taking no chances.

You let the wolf take control and used her strength to drive the blade straight down through Jareth’s throat. It took effort and you were drenched in his blood, but with a sickening noise, his head was removed from his shoulders, thanks to Loki’s magic blade.

You stared at your handiwork, taking a moment to verify that Jareth was well and truly dead. He wasn’t getting up without his head and heart. You knew that, and still you had to stare at what you’d done, to burn the image in your mind, to tell yourself it was finally over.

Except that it wasn’t.

There was still Loki. You jumped back to your feet, ignoring your own wounds and ran the few steps to Loki, dropping your blade as you ran. “Loki!” you called, concerned at the blood that was still dripping from his arm. Werewolf bites did not heal quickly. They did not heal easily. They did not heal well.

He offered you a smile and held out Jareth’s somehow still-beating heart. It was wrapped in a ribbon tied into a bow. It was absurd and you smiled at your silly Trickster. Was he actually ok? He was a god after all, maybe the bite wouldn’t affect him.

You held out hope for a single instant.

Until he dropped with no warning into a dead faint.

“LOKI!” you shouted as you reached forward to catch him before he could hit the ground.

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #submission #chapter 42 #packless monsters #nekoamamori

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dreamweaversofficial · 3 years

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Year Two, Chapter One

“I am so glad you’re back,” Lyric says fervently, throwing her arms around Garen’s shoulders. He laughs and pats her back. From the doorway of their room, she can see the other year two students engaging in joyful reunions, linking arms and calling gleefully to roommates. They’ve all got new rooms and new classes, but this is familiar.

Devon strides down the hall, bag dragging behind them, and comes to a stop in front of the room they share with Reema. She stands in the doorway and smirks. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

“Out of the way, Salten.” Devon rolls their eyes, grinning, and brushes past her. She looks up, catching Lyric’s gaze. They sneer at each other.

“She’s not one for showing emotion in public,” Garen notes, following her gaze.

Lyric sighs. “She’s not one for showing emotion besides disgust.”

Unbidden, the memory of Reema in the corridor returns to her. The girl’s face, pinched and miserable, as Lyric tried to comfort her. But soon the memory is replaced by the feel of the cold floor under her hands, pain spreading through her wrists.

A boy in a wheelchair steers past them. “‘Scuse me.”

“Sorry!” Garen chirps back, scooting out of the way with his entire body. He ushers her into their room, towing his backpack and suitcase behind him. Lowering his voice, he eases the door shut. “I brought so much contraband food.”

“You’re dream sent,” Lyric groans, making grabby hands at the bag. “I’ve had nothing but school food for ages.”

It’s not like it’s bad food - it’s just that Mentality’s still a school, at the end of the day. A school on a health kick, apparently. There aren’t exactly vending machines filled with the sugary stuff care didn’t, well, care enough to ban. He pulls a baggie of Scandanavian Swimmers out of his bag and tosses them to her.

“I still don’t know how you think that’s the height of flavor,” Garen complains.

She shrugs. “More for me.”

They settle on the couch to throw candy into their mouths at rapid speed.

“Tell me about your summer,” Lyric implores, shaking her hair out of her face. Candy and spit almost follow.

Garen tilts his head from side to side, scrunching his face. “It was pretty normal, honestly. I mean -” (a dreamy smile) “I had this great shared dream with my family. We were all at a beach, I think, and I think the umbrellas were - floating? It was really warm.”

“That sounds sweet,” Lyric says truthfully. It sounds maybe a tad boring, but mellow.

“Uh,” he mumbles, abruptly coming out of his reverie. “Yeah. I mean, it wasn’t that great. I mean.”

“Oh,” Lyric realizes. “It’s fine. I like hearing about your family.”

Garen exhales, relieved, and smiles sheepishly. “My little sister would have smacked me. Lizzie.”

“Lizzie,” she repeats, satisfied. “A good name.”

“Is this awkward?” he asks, lurching forward. “I might be projecting.”

“You wanna do an awkward hug?” Lyric offers, spreading her arms. He shrugs, wraps his arms around her, and suffers through two back pats. “Now we’re good.”

“Thank you,” Garen replies solemnly.

There’s a click at the door, and they look at each other in unbridled panic. As if of one mind, they shove their respective snacks back into his backpack, settling back onto the couch naturally. ‘Naturally’, in this case, means Garen has one leg draped over the side of the couch, the other propped up on the table. Lyric has one leg in lotus position and the other jabbing into Garen’s side.

“Lyric.”

“Headmaster,” Lyric perks up.

The woman smiles. “Settling into having a roommate again?”

“It won’t be a hard adjustment,” she rushes to assure her. “I won’t be a bother.”

“You talking to me isn’t a bother,” Headmaster admonishes. “I was just checking up on the students. Good to see you two are doing well.”

Lyric beams at her, and the headmaster ducks back out the door with a final nod to Garen. He settles back into a normal position. “You totally worship the headmaster.”

“I don’t worship her,” Lyric denies stiffly. She doesn’t remove her foot from Garen’s ribs, instead giving him a jab. He curses and swats her away. “I just give her due deference, as someone who pulled me out of mundanity.”

“What thirteen year old uses words like due deference and mundanity,” he mutters, shaking his head. It’s not mean spirited, but something in Lyric prickles. She shoves it down.

“Let’s get you unpacked,” she suggests instead, tossing a candy at his head. Garen heaves himself off the couch with a sigh, cracks his back like an old man, and offers her a hand up. She takes it.

“What I painted my room orange this year?”

“What if you didn’t?”

“This year,” their professor informs them, “will be harder than the last. You’re second years, so it’s hardly going to be a mission every day, but it’s your last year in which to decide what track you’re entering.”

Lyric and Garen throw each other glances, pen from mouths to paper and back again. Daydreams??? is written at the head of her own notebook. Garen’s sheet is covered in doodles of sports plays and one terrible drawing of Salza. She smirks.

“We’ll get you on the team this year, buddy,” she whispers, patting him on the shoulder. Throwing a significant look at the sketch, she continues: “I can’t promise anything more than that.”

“Shut up,” he mutters back, covering the drawing with his hand, and underlines Daydreams??? on her sheet twice.

Professor Ozik finishes drawing a venn diagram on the board, then motions towards the oval where weavers and eaters intersect. His students furrow their brows at him.

“I know we don’t like to discuss anything beyond the whole ‘our opponents are heartless monsters’ gig, but I figured I’d throw it out there. I tend to get a bit philosophical -” - here, some of the kids groan - “- but think about it. Why do dreamweavers and dreameaters have the same fundamental magic?”

“If you’re suggesting we have the same common ancestor, I’m going to be extremely concerned,” a boy pipes from the back. His seatmate snickers, thinks about it, and contorts her face into a look of dismay. Another starts fake-retching.

“That’s scientifically disproven,” Salza points out mildly, and the boy snaps to attention. He rubs the back of his neck.

“Not ancestors, per se…” the professor halts. “Anyway. We can start with the differences.”

“Dreamweavers are creatures of destruction,” another student recites - Mary? Mercy? - “They consume the dreams of normal people, so dreamweavers have to stop them.”

Ozik writes fight on the board, then halts. “I want you all to remember you’re normal too, alright?”

There’s a lull in conversation, a lapse in the faintly uneasy but engaged atmosphere. Discomfort. Ozik turns to face them. “Seriously. You’re no worse than people without magic, but you’re no better. Just because your eyes are purple -”

He catches sight of Lyric and hastily backtracks. “Magic doesn’t make you an inherently better person. People can’t help the way they’re born.”

Cirro throws a look at Lyric over his shoulder, long and disdainful. She bristles. A few of the surrounding students follow his gaze, eyes trailing to Lyric’s, and seem to remember she’s visibly different from them - her one mistake. She supposes being asked to look inward only makes them more predisposed to look out.

Rolling his shoulders, their professor blows chalk into the front row. Lyric’s not sure why the instructors here are either hideously informal or insanely uptight, but she’s not exactly complaining. These aren’t usual situations.

I thought we were getting along, she thinks at Cirro, but he’s back to being the same jerk he was at the start of first year. A reset of sorts. Reema makes a clucking noise in the back of her throat. The way she’s looking at their professor is almost - impressed, for once, admiration leaking through as his words.

“Would you consider magic users to see things in black and white rather than shades of gray, when it comes to the dreameaters?”

Professor Ozik twists his mouth to the side. “An excellent question! From a more philosophical standpoint, we have to assume every living thing is playing into their baser nature. However, those same creatures presumably also have free will and emotions.”

It’s an uncomfortable thought, one most of the born-and-bred magic students surely wish Reema hadn’t planted. She herself looks almost inclined to take notes. Shifting in her seat, Lyric sets down the pen, picks it back up, presses her fingers into it tight enough to hurt.

Reema talks like there’s always more to her sentence: a pause, the internal debate, and conclusive refraining sigh. No word escapes her lips that she hasn’t already considered a thousand times. Lyric has to bite words back half-formed, damaging combinations of letters to wound and cauterize.

The fact that she thinks before her actions hurts. She knows how cruel she’s going to be, and she does it anyway.

Salza’s eyes are alight with cautious interest. “It hasn’t been proved that dreamweavers are capable of conscious thought beyond ‘eat dreams’ and ‘fight anything in my way’.”

“She talks like she’s in a scientific study, and plays like she’s on a national team,” Garen mumbles dreamily. Lyric stifles a laugh, dipping her head.

“Do you think we could try to talk to them?” Reema asks. This is the most interested she’s looked during any lecture, leaning slightly forward with her eyes trained on Professor Ozik. He’s engaged in response, flourishing under the weight of his students’ eyes, and opens his mouth to answer.

There’s a knock on the door, and he flashes an apologetic look as he goes to answer it. Ozik blinks. “Headmaster. What a pleasantly unexpected surprise.”

The usually kindly looking woman’s eyes are downturned, face sober, lips pressed slightly inwards. The headmaster whispers something to Professor Ozik, then ducks back out into the hall. He looks at Reema.

“The headmaster would like to see you after class.” Ozik says, then waves a hand. “You aren’t in trouble for anything.”

“That’s a first,” Lyric rolls her eyes, but her mind is stuck on Headmaster’s face as she left - guilt.

The sheet of paper in Reema’s hand, ripped out of a notebook in anticipation of answers, crumples loudly.

The girl jolts slightly, as if she hadn’t meant to do that. She smooths her fingers over the page as if she wants to unwrinkle it, but the tightness in her eyes implies she’d rather clench her fist instead. Lyric winces at the unmeasured movement. The blankness of her face covering concern.

“So,” Professor Ozik announces loudly, “Where were we?”

“Dreameaters,” Marcus suggests from the back row, and Ozik nods.

But the room has a different kind of charged tension now, vague interest in whatever their resident troublemaker has done this time mixed with the shift of an interrupted lesson. Lyric scribbles down what appears on the board in between glances towards Reema. Devon catches her, clearly interpreting it as a scornful look, and scowls back. She averts her eyes.

After class, Lyric hastily packs up her stuff, lingering by the door. Reema slowly and methodically puts her notebook and pen into her bag. Needling her, Devon mutters hushed questions that Lyric has to crane her neck to hear.

“- do something without me?” Devon asks, their own bag ready to go. “I’d rather have warning. I hate getting busted for stuff I didn’t do.”

“Quit pestering me, alright?” Reema says calmly. She stands. “I haven’t pulled anything by myself. It’s probably something about my grades - I’ve been tanking assignments on purpose to see if they’ll kick me out.”

Lyric pretends to fiddle with something on her backpack. She’s told Garen to head to their next class without her, so it looks less suspicious, but she’s not so sure it’s working.

Reema glances over at her, then lowers her voice. “Maybe they’re finally sending me home.”

“Right,” Devon replies, face frozen, and laughs stiffly. “I’d forgotten about that for a minute.”

“I haven’t,” Reema replies, her voice dropping to a low whisper. Lyric catches herself trying to lean in and hear what follows, pulling back with a silent noise of regret. She wheels out of the classroom ahead of them and slinks towards the headmaster’s office.

Look natural, she tells herself. It’s a good thing I head here so often - nobody thinks anything out of the ordinary.

The other girl darts into the office, and Lyric feels a pang of anxiety in her stomach. Listening into other people’s conversations isn’t exactly polite, and listening into the headmaster’s conversation with a student is hardly any better. Still, she edges closer to the door and tries to pretend she’s leaning against a wall, no ulterior motives here.

“You asked to see me?” Reema’s voice floats out of the room, anticipatory.

“I’m afraid it’s about your parents,” Headmaster responds. Her tone is heavy. Forbidding. “They’ve been involved in some - less than savory activity.”

“Please just say you think they’re criminals and move on,” Reema snarks. “This has happened a hundred times before.”

The headmaster exhales. “I’m afraid it hasn’t. At least not something of this magnitude.”

Reema is silent. As if answering Lyric’s unspoken plea, the headmaster continues. “They were using spells on those without magic. Serious spells, Reema. Those that you can’t use without consequence.”

“So, what, they’re getting arrested by the magic police?” the girl sneers. “I can’t believe -”

“Can you really look me in the eyes and tell me you can’t believe this would happen?” Headmaster asks, quiet and understanding. Lyric’s head slowly tips back, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, and she tries not to breathe.

Again, the only response is silence. Then: “I want to see them.”

“I’m afraid I can’t permit second years to leave school grounds once the school year has started,” Headmaster begins.

“Not even for ‘family emergencies?’”

She sighs. “Not even then.”

Lyric can picture it: Reema, furiously indignant, Headmaster, unflappable and unmoving. Teenage passion burning out against hard stone.

“I’m afraid I called you in here to give you other news, as well.” the headmaster admits, and the sound of shuffling papers fills the hallway. “Since your legal guardians are going to be unable to care for you this summer, you’re going to have to stay in the Mentality dorms.”

“Are you serious,” Reema demands, enraged. The fight seems to drain out of her in the next moment, a defeated quality entering her voice. Lyric risks a peek into the room. The other girl’s shoulders are slumped, her head bowed, and her eyes closed. The picture of ingracious defeat.

Then it hits her.

Reema is going to be staying at Mentality over the summer.

Lyric is going to have to deal with her, without even the buffer of other people her own age, for two and a half months.

#dreamweavers #dreamweavers official #original story #originalstory #lgbtq+#lgbtq #fantasy

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sophiakountakis · 4 years

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I have contemplated for many years if I should ever speak about this. I do not like to show my personal life, or experiences that I have been through. To be honest, I still feel embarrassed to talk about this. I’m not afraid of what people will think. I just feel like compared to other people’s’ life struggles, mine was still fixable? so I shouldn’t complain or tell my story as if I have suffered throughout my life. But I have suffered and it has taken me years to realized that I did and that I lived through this traumatic experience.

Please take the time to read my story. It is very long and extensive, but it would mean so much to me. This isn’t a common topic people speak about and sometimes I feel like it is brushed aside compared to other diseases. I am also guilty of this. If you think about it, this disease, if you want to call it that, is very agonizing, even dangerous. I also realize that many people do not know anything about this disease at all. There are many misconceptions and I don’t blame anyone. I, too, was so unaware until it happened to me. I hope to share my experience, as anyone who fights this disease is different, and I hope to provide some awareness. I do not intend for this to scare people. This is what I went through.

This is my story with idiopathic scoliosis.

I will take you guys through the entire timeline. I am talking about this now because June is considered to be Scoliosis Awareness Month and December 22, 2020 will mark 10 years living with my correction surgery. Writing this was very emotional for me and I have been editing this and gathering my thoughts for over a month. There is something very liberating in writing about past trauma, but it also brings up a lot of suppressed feelings that I really did not want to go through again.

The Diagnosis

It was a hot day in August 2009, about 5PM in the afternoon and I was sitting in the waiting room for the doctor’s office. I was entering my freshman year in high school and all students were required to receive a physical before playing any sports or participate in P.E. (gym). I actually remember the exact outfit I wore, a blue Aeropostale shirt with black gym shorts — it’s Texas, it was very hot outside. My mother stayed in the car as this was supposed to be a quick 10 minute check-up.

Finally, my name was called. The check-up was going smoothly. I was asked to do the scoliosis test, where you stand up and they check the alignment in your hips and shoulders to make sure they are even. Then, you bend over to touch your toes, so they can check your spine curvature under your shirt. The nurse, who was a schoolmate’s mom, keep in mind I lived in a small town and everyone at the school was involved, including the doctor’s kids, made me stand back up and said she would be right back. She came back into the room with another nurse and they sat me down on the table and checked me again. She asked me if I had been examined for scoliosis. I said no, only the test once a year in gym class where you bend over and I always passed that one, maybe because I have long arms and was decently flexible. Who knows if there is any adequacy to that test. I would say no.

She told me to call my mom to come inside. I called her and was starting to get very nervous. I had no idea what she was talking about. I heard about scoliosis, but never in my life I thought I would have that. It couldn’t be true. My mom entered the room and the nurses told her the diagnosis and then they recommended that I should see a specialist. They offered to send me to a doctor in town, but my mom was not going to do that yet. We got in the car and headed home. I can’t really remember what was going on after. I remember my dad finding out once he got home from work that day and they both looked at my back again. He said that he remembered I was complaining about some back pain in the past year and he would kindly rub my back so that I would feel better. I thought back on it and agreed, but couldn’t believe this was why.

My parents decided that they would take me to Houston, over an hour away from my town, to see a spinal specialist. My mom, who has had a knee replacement, did not trust the doctors in our town and only wanted me to see someone who was at the top of their field. The doctor that did my mom’s knee replacement, some years before, had referred us to his colleague, Dr. Francis. We had an appointment in the next two weeks.

The day came for the appointment and my family and I traveled to Houston. We did not know what to expect, we hoped this opinion would be different. It was a very long appointment. I had many x-rays. They were curious about my growth spurts and how far along I was with my development. I was 15 years old and oddly tall and lanky. I looked like I could have reached my end height. Most women develop and stop growing around 16 to 18 years old. It obviously depends on the person, but that is the typical age group. For men, it is much later, 20 to 23 years old, again it depends.

The x-rays came back and Dr. Francis showed us images on an x-ray screen and basically explained to us very carefully and empathically that I indeed did have scoliosis. It was not just a small curve. It was 46 degrees on the thoracic and about 12 degrees on the lumbar, a reverse S-curve.

When a patient has a degree exceeding 10 degrees in the spine, it is usually diagnosed as scoliosis. Curves less than 10 degrees are typically normal and can correct themselves later on depending on the growth of that patient. When the curve typically exceeds 40 degrees, surgery is needed. All humans have a natural curve to their spine, some claim this to be scoliosis, however this is absolutely false. It is perfectly normal, remember 10 degrees or more is when you need to start worrying.

I obviously had passed that point and Dr. Francis stated that I would need surgery. He continued to explain the process and information for the next steps to consider when this would happen. I could not remember a single thing after the word surgery. I blacked out and starting crying so much. I was causing a scene. I couldn’t believe it. I looked up at my parents and sister and they were crying too, which made me cry more. Dr. Francis tried his best to calm us down and reassure that it was going to work out and he sees patients way worse than me. He told me that I was lucky because I could have the surgery and that most patients are past the point of their growth and cannot have the surgery at all, ever.

To have the surgery, a patient needs to be very young because the bones in the body typically harden after puberty and once the bones harden they become very difficult to move. As stated before, the curve has to be over 40 degrees. Patients with degrees less than 40 are given a brace and physical therapy for them to moderate their scoliosis and keep it from growing and twisting. Once you are too old and the curve is too extreme, you basically live your life in pain. These people can suffer grave complications throughout their life, including lung collapse from the spine twisting, organ failure, punctured organs, etc, or even early death.

I, fortunately, was still young enough for the surgery to be plausible and successful. Unfortunately, my curve was so large and I had to have the surgery. Had I known before, I could have slowed the growth of the curve and maybe not have the surgery at all. But the only question for me was, when? When did I first start having symptoms and start progressing this curve at this rate of extremity? I was so tall and lanky. There were times in middle school and later in high school where I grew six inches in one year and did four more inches the next year.

My mom questioned whether or not scoliosis was hereditary as she remembered her mom, my grandma, had a small curve in her upper spine. My aunt, her sister, had a small curve as well. Dr. Francis mentioned that a curve that small wouldn’t carry genes far enough for me to have full-blown scoliosis, especially since my mom had no curve. My dad’s side had no trace of it either. Then, my parents asked if it was because I was so tall for my age and they told him I grew so much in one year. Maybe my body couldn’t keep up with my bones? Possibly.

There are many types of scoliosis:

These can occur at different stages in a human’s life.

Congenital Scoliosis: where a person is born with scoliosis because the spine does not develop in the womb.

Early Onset Scoliosis: the curve appears in children before puberty or age 10.

Adolescent Idiopathic Scoliosis: a change in shape of the spine when a child is growing. The spine curves and twists at the same time.

Degenerative Scoliosis: occurs in adults, sometimes the bones get weaker as a person ages.

Neuromuscular Scoliosis: caused by a neurological muscular condition.

Scheuermann’s Kyphosis (Hunchback Syndrome): where the front sections of vertebrae grow more slowly than the back sections during childhood causing a forward curvature.

Syndromic Scoliosis: scoliosis develops as part of a syndrome.

I was told that I have idiopathic scoliosis. Idiopathic means that there is no known cause or origin. Sometimes it runs in families and sometimes there is no trace. It is the most common diagnosis and affects both boys and girls, but it is eight times more common in girls. This made sense since I grew so fast in such a short amount of time. The symptoms, although I never experienced any until I was diagnosed, can vary from person to person depending on the degree of curvature. Common symptoms are shortness of breath during activity, back pain, and a bulge in the back from the rib cage.

My x-ray not only showed my double curve, but highlighted the fact that my spine was also twisting. My left rib cage was protruding outward and forward and my right rib cage was protruding backward, clockwise. My ribs were becoming squished together on the right where it was protruding back. I hadn’t even noticed before, but after, it was all that I could think about.

Cut back to the appointment – we left upset, scared, and somewhat hopeful. I remember riding back from Houston, the sun was setting, and I was still shedding tears. I just could not believe it. I recalled a memory I had the year before, where they were doing the test on us in 8th grade, middle school. I remember doing the test and being like, “Why am I doing this? I will never have scoliosis. This is whatever. It won’t happen to me.” That thought haunted me. I felt like it was karma. Here I am, a year later, crying in the car because I have severe scoliosis. I felt terrible, and oddly guilty? Like I did something wrong when I thought that and now I am receiving punishment. It sounds so irrational, but that is how my mind works. I basically blamed myself.

The Next Steps

Two weeks later, I came back for an appointment to fit me for a brace. The final decision was that while I was coming close to ending my growth, I would wear a brace in the meantime to see if I would grow more within the next year. Dr. Francis was concerned that I could grow more within a year, comparing my height to my parents, who are 6’2″ and 5’10”,and he did not want to stunt my growth. Once you have surgery, the spine does not grow anymore. By the next year, if my body was not growing, then I would have the surgery.

There are some variations of braces that are used to treat/maintain scoliosis. I wore this one.

image source unknown.

It had an opening on the side of my body where my ribs needed to be pushed back into place, or straightened. The brace came down over my glutes and up to under my bra cups. I wore the brace for 16 hours a day and was allowed 8 hours off. The time depends on the severity of the curve and the amount of time needed to keep my curve from progressing.

I was so embarrassed to wear this. The first few months wearing it were so painful. My ribs were sore, I couldn’t bend down in it, twist, arch my back, nothing. I did not want to wear this to school at all. I was so afraid of being made fun of for having a back brace. I told absolutely no one in my school that I was diagnosed with scoliosis. I knew how the people at my school were, if they would make fun of someone for something as small as having hair on their arms as a girl (yes, they did) they would definitely make fun of a back brace. I did not trust anyone. I think maybe one of my very, very close friends suspected it later in the year, but she was kind enough to let me not know that she knew. I never wore the brace at school. I was too paranoid someone would hug me or poke me (my school was small and very close and it was 2009/2010, people at school were allowed to hug each other then). I also did not want to answer so many questions from people and did not want to be looked at differently, like something was wrong with my body, like I was not perfect. This later turned into a bizarre body dysmorphia. I will explain that in the future maybe.

At the time, I was on the drill team and loved dancing, but that had to end very quickly. I still was allowed to play sports and continued activities in P.E. and even played softball, although I mostly sat benched. I continued to hide the fact that I was going through something fairly distressing as my body would ache every single day. As a teenager, you do not expect to go through something life changing or severe. My heart aches for every single young person/child that has to go through some physical/mental illness, or disease. It is so difficult to understand your feelings and feel validated in what you are going through. I did not understand most of my feelings and thoughts until years later after analyzing my experience. I went through trauma and I still live with some PTSD from this. This ended up affecting my everyday life and how I perceived myself. I was 15 years old. There is so much pressure in high school to look and be perfect and I felt that deeply. No matter what anyone said, I felt the pressure to look a certain way and with this disease there was no way I would be the same as everyone else. That was a blessing in disguise because now, almost 10 years later, I am so happy that I am different, or at least look like it from the back.

It seems hilarious because if you look at me now you would have never known or guessed that I have scoliosis! Only when I am in a bathing suit and you just so happen to look at my back, which does not happen very often.

The Surgery

Fall 2010 came around and I went to my quarterly check-up. The doctor requested more x-rays and a brace adjustment to tighten my back straighter. He mentioned that my growing will most likely subside in the next year and was afraid he would lose the time where my bones would be malleable enough to move around. The curve was already so big and I was so tall and older than most of his young patients. My mom and Dr. Francis agreed to have my surgery over Christmas 2010. I thought, this is too fast I cannot process this. Surgery? Am I really going to go through this?

The doctor went over the surgery procedure with us and mentioned that it would include a bar and a few screws into my spine, but he did not really know for sure until I was in surgery. They tell you this to prepare you for what they will do, but also won’t guarantee anything because something else could happen during surgery and might require another route.

No amount of preparation the doctor gave me was actually going to mentally assure me what was going to happen post-surgery. But I had a lot of faith in them and tried not to focus on it too much. Most of the feedback was positive and assuring. Little did I know it would be different for me.

I was put into physical therapy a few months before to tighten my core and back muscles so I could use them post-surgery to help me hold up my back. Whether or not this was helpful, I am not sure, but I did not notice anything specific. However, I did not mind the therapy at the time because I felt like I was helping myself.

December rolled around and I was on Christmas break. I left my school thinking that I would see my friends again in January with a new back and no one would ever know what happened, so I thought.

The downtime in the hospital was one week, so my parents and sister decided to rent a hotel for a week really close to the hospital in Houston. The day before my surgery we checked into the hotel, which was near the Galleria mall, and they let me run around the mall. My last moments free to move around sans metal spine.

The next morning, we woke up at 4 AM and I bathed in this antiseptic solution. It was brown and had an odd smell, not what I wanted to do at 4 in the morning. My surgery was scheduled at 7 AM and we were told it would be a 7 to 8 hour procedure. I couldn’t imagine being unconscious for that long. Before I knew it I was whisked away to the prep room so I could get ready for surgery. I remember the room was freezing, I was shivering so hard my teeth were clacking. The kind nurses assured me everything was going to be alright and I had this strange moment where I said a silent prayer in my head. I am by no means super religious, let’s say uber-laxed. I felt so bizarre doing it, but I was so scared. At the same time, I was so out of it that I couldn’t process anything that was happening. They put the anesthesia on and I fell asleep.

During this time, my parents and sister were in the waiting room the entire surgery. I am not sure what they did and I don’t think I ever asked.

I cannot remember the next few days after I woke up. All I know is that I woke up to what seemed like late afternoon in a hospital room, my family sitting around me watching tv. I was full of pain medication and felt this sharp pain coming from my left hip. As I recall, I don’t remember back surgery including hip pain. I was told later that my surgery was extremely difficult. When my parents first saw me, still unconscious, they said my face was very swollen from laying down on my face during surgery. My mom mentioned that when Dr. Francis came out of the surgical room to notify them, he looked exhausted and was wet from sweating so much. I lost a lot of blood. My bones were much more stiff than anticipated and I needed a spinal fusion.

A spinal fusion is when two or more pieces of vertebrae are fused together with a piece of bone and/or metal. The bone is extracted from a large mass, typically the pelvis – why my hip was hurting so much. They did not know I would need a spinal fusion until I was already being operated on. The hardware required for my surgery also changed, I had two bars in my spine, each lining either side of my vertebrae, and about 18 screws, each 1.5 to 2 inches long. The screws hold the bars to my spine. The bars ensure my spine stays put and the fusion makes sure the spine does not grow anymore. Is my spine perfectly straight up and down now? No, as I stated earlier, my curve was very large and my bones were stiffer than expected so they could only correct it about 90% and then basically fused my spine together so the curve does not progress anymore. Dr. Francis also attempted to re-twist my rib cage a bit so my back does not have a bulge. He never fused my lower back. My bars only go through 3/4 of my spine. I am still able to move my lower back far enough to have some freedom, not too much to do anything crazy, but enough to bend down and touch my toes.

Here are my post-surgery X-rays.

Back

Side

The amount of pain I endured the next few days was unimaginable. I truly cannot describe how this felt. I can only compare it to getting run over by a car and having your back destroyed. The first day out of surgery they make you walk with a walker of course, and let me tell you – I WAS NOT going to do it. I screamed and cried. These poor nurses did not like me at all. I don’t blame them, I was unbearable.

But little by little, I ended up walking because it was absolutely necessary that I start training my body to do the most simplest motion – walking. Learning to walk again was the most unnatural thing I have ever experienced. I sympathize for anyone who has had to do it. It is so painful. I did not realize how much you needed your back to do everything! Without your back, you literally cannot do anything.

I also noticed I was slightly taller than before surgery. Apparently I grew an inch from the correction. I was 5’9″ now and 100 pounds. I lost so much weight from surgery, about 15 pounds. I was always a lanky, skinny kid. Some would complain that I was too skinny, but it was not like I was starving myself. Later, I would come to know that I had a hormone deficiency, but didn’t know that at this time and it was very shocking to see me. I was so fragile looking and with a new back, as I call it, I looked even more lanky and awkward.

I spent Christmas in the hospital with my family which was not cool, but I was grateful I was alive. A few gross things happened before leaving the hospital. I received a blood transfusion a few days before I was discharged because I lost so much blood during surgery I really needed to be ‘refurbished,’ for lack of better words haha. That was an interesting procedure. While I was unconscious during surgery, they planted a stint in my chest near my heart. When I woke up I was so confused about it protruding out of my chest. To give me blood, they hooked up a blood bag to the stint and let it funnel through the small tube into my main artery. I could feel the blood rushing through my heart. It was gross. Another gross thing was that I had two drains plugged into my back to drain any fluid from the surgery, mainly blood and other liquids. This had to be changed every day and it was so disgusting. I cannot believe I saw that coming out of me. Insert barf emoji here. And my last gross experience was having a suppository because my intestines were so backed up. I was not walking very much and the doctor had to slightly move around some of my intestinal track to adjust my back. Mega gross.

The day finally came for me to be discharged from the hospital. I spent seven days in that room completely lethargic. They told me recovery was usually six to eight weeks. I was given some pain medication and was sent home. I had to wear another brace, this time it was straight with no holes in it. It was mandatory for every single time I was in the car to protect my back in case anything bad happened while driving. Truthfully, I probably wore this thing twice. I was asked to make check up appointments and if I needed anything to call or come see the office.

The Recovery

The worst part of this experience was not having the surgery, it was recovering from it. I spent the next four months of my life in so much pain I wanted to die.

I was suppose to go back to school early January 2011 for my sophomore year of high school. That didn’t happen. My parents asked the school for me to skip for the next month to give me more time to adjust and heal. January went by in excruciating pain. February came around, went to my check up, begged and cried for more painkillers, and went home still in pain. I will say, the doctor that prescribes the pain medication, who is different from the surgeon, was very patient with me and gave me more than I probably needed. My mom, who very well knew kids shouldn’t have their medications by their beds every night, kept them in her room in a cabinet where I obviously couldn’t reach because I could barely walk. I was suppose to be off meds in February, but I continued taking them until March-ish.

I was on antibiotics for the first month, then morphine, hydrocodone, muscle relaxers, and maybe something else for pain. These were all spaced out and on a need-basis and my mom was careful with how much she gave me. I hated taking these medications, but I couldn’t function without them at all. I was a completely different person on these medications. I was depressed, cranky, I cried so much all the time, I was agitated, you couldn’t even speak to me without me getting upset. My parents did everything they could to make me feel better, get me on a routine, try to alleviate my pain. I blacked out most of this time. I cannot remember much, even just a few months after I fully recovered I couldn’t recall much at all. Maybe I blocked it all out. There is a study I read that says your mind sometimes responds to trauma by blocking it out as a coping mechanism.

I do remember a few things very clearly. Me, painfully trying to walk around the house with a walker. My aunt scrubbing my feet and giving me a pedicure because the pain meds dried out my body so much the skin on my feet and my body was peeling off. My dad waking me up every morning, giving me my medication and bringing me to the tv in the living room, feeding me french toast that he would take time out of his routine to make for me because he knew I liked it. My sister bringing me water every time I asked for it. My mom giving me showers once a week and trying to get all of the greasy oils out of my hair. Me sitting on an orthopedic chair every single day with a brown blanket my dad bought me so I would feel comfortable. I still own it and it recalls this exact memory.

I also remember hating my life. Maybe it was the pain medications making me so emotional. Maybe it was all the pain I felt for days, months, that would never go away. I remember laying down in bed after having one of my pain induced meltdowns, my mom came in to bring me an ice pack to put under me because my ribs were hurting so much. I kept crying and thinking to myself that I wish that I would just die because it hurts so much. I am not sure if I actually said that to her or my parents in general. But they could tell I was seriously depressed. My parents were never the people to give pity to me or my sister. They always wanted us to stay strong, keep going, and get through things, but when you have a child in pain for so long, I can’t imagine how awful they might have felt to see me like this. On top of this pain, I just felt so helpless and worthless this entire time. I couldn’t do anything I wanted, I couldn’t help myself, not even get up and get a glass of water by myself. I had to rely on someone for every single thing I needed. It was so frustrating for me and I couldn’t stand it.

I remember my sister telling me that she and my mom went to the store one day and she told her that she was so worried that I would never recover, that I had to endure the pain she had to endure when she had her knee replacement and suffered with her knee all her life. Scoliosis isn’t a one time deal. It carries with you until you die. I will pass away one day with this metal in back. This doesn’t get taken out. The surgery technically isn’t a “fix”, it is band aid to stop the progression. The pain doesn’t miraculously disappear. It is a work in progress.

Even my father was worried, he saw that I was so depressed and thought that I might not ever recover. My family had no idea what this surgery would bring me in the future. None of us even knew this was a thing. None of us thought it would happen to us. But my mom told me something very important, something she had to learn at a very young age. Everyone in their life goes through something health-related at some point in their life. Whether you are young or old, you will go through something traumatic, whatever that trauma is, everyone goes through it.

I would always cry and say why is this happening to me? Why me? Why do I have to suffer like this? My father would tell me that this is a very hard time for me, but I am still lucky and will get through this. Some people go through much worse and they don’t come back from it. I have always thought, throughout my entire experience with this, that what I went through was very difficult, but I am still blessed, for lack of a better word. My family could get me a great doctor. My family could afford to take care of me. I had insurance. This disease wasn’t terminal for me. Even though this was terrible, I had so many instances were I could be happy and grateful that this was my ‘bad’ time in my life. Who knows, my life isn’t over yet, sometimes multiple issues occur. This was a very eye-opening time for me as a 15-16 year old. My reality bubble burst. I never thought in my entire life that I would experience unwarranted physical pain. It sounds so ridiculous, but really I thought that. Now I know, no one is spared from pain in their life and it happens to every single person.

During this time, I had a few friends visit me. It was March and I was able to walk more often. My school was notified since my parents were not sure how I would be able to return to my classes without needing help getting around. However, my school did not offer an option for me to catch up on missed classes. I had to finish my sophomore year of high school and my school would not help me. My parents personally asked a few teachers to send work home for me, via my friends, and I would return it to them at my own pace. A few teachers even came to my house to teach me in person and give me tests. These teachers were paid extra by my parents. I felt so embarrassed for them to see me like that, but I thanked every single teacher for coming out of their way to help me. I am forever grateful to them.

Another Surgery

I was 16 and by the way, I did not have a sweet 16 birthday party, it was spent at the doctor’s office. At this age, I hadn’t started my period, which is very unusual for a 16 year old. Remember, I was very skinny, boney, all my life and after surgery I was much thinner. I was 100 lbs at 5’9″ and as much as I ate, it would take months for me to gain any weight. My parents knew I ate, although I was very picky, and that I wasn’t starving myself. I was always teased for having chicken legs and always being told to ‘go home and eat some cake’. A kid even told me once that my arms were so thin they could snap my limbs. I’ve had disgusting comments said to me about my body by so many boys and girls. I never understood why people wanted to be so skinny, because all I wanted were curves. I never had that. I still barely have that HAHA. All bodies are different and I have accepted that. I still suffer with body dysmorphia because I ended up gaining weight. I can elaborate on my body journey, in a different post.

Anyways, I didn’t have a period, but I was starting to feel cramps. Like bad cramps. My mom assured me it was my menstrual cycle, not to worry, and just take aspirin. For some reason, I felt like something else was happening, but didn’t know exactly what – it was just wrong. It kept getting worse for the next two days. The third day a few friends, who found out about my surgery, decided to come over to my house during spring break and surprise me with a wellness basket. It was so sweet, I was surprised and very thankful that they would do that for me. At the same time, I was feeling almost worse. My pain tolerance must have been so high because somehow I got through two hours of visiting with my friends before I couldn’t take it anymore. I went to the bathroom to maybe see if something was actually happening with my period. I ended up keeling over on the toilet, completely unable to move. With all my strength, I got myself up and limped to my mom’s room and said that something else was wrong. I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t stand up straight. I could only be bent over at 90 degrees.

My mom told my friends to go home and that I needed to go to the hospital. I’m sure that didn’t freak them out. I was in the ER and the nurse at the desk wouldn’t believe me that I was in pain. I was at the counter crying in so much pain not able to stand. I thought I was dying. The pain escalated so much that I could move at all. After making me wait for 30 minutes in an empty ER room, I was finally sent to the back to a jail cell room (where they put prisoners or criminals who are hurt) because the others were ‘full.’ I’m not here to trash ER rooms or nurses, they do a great deal for humans and society, but this is my experience and I’m going to be truthful, I was beyond upset. After 5 hours of testing and lay weeping in my jail cell, the doctors couldn’t figure out if I was suffering from an ovarian cyst or appendicitis. When asked when my last period was, which was never, the doctors accused my mom of starving me, not getting a period, then threatened to call CPS on her. Yes, this actually happened. So, they decided they would have to put me in surgery to really figure out what was going on before they could diagnose me. Around 10pm, I was in surgery.

I awoke to a hospital room, again. I was told my appendix ruptured as soon as the doctor’s started to operate on me. Right on time. I was cleaned up before an infection could start and my appendix was removed. There is not really a cause for appendicitis. It can be anything or nothing. It isn’t really needed anymore in the human body. I spent a week in the hospital, which is so much longer than the recovery time for appendicitis, because I wouldn’t eat the hospital food, it was disgusting. Yes, they kept me in the hospital to make sure that I would eat!!! This recovery was very painful as they blow up your stomach with air to operate and when you wake up your stomach hurts a lot, like severe gas pains. Eventually, I was released and had to adjust to being in pain again! Two drastic surgeries in less than three months. Crazy!

Making Progress

The end of March and beginning of April were still rough, but things were looking up. By the end of April, I was feeling better, moving around a lot more without my walker, able to bend down and get things for myself. My parents let me go back to school in May for a few weeks until the end of school. It was so bizarre returning to school, especially for such a short amount of time. They wanted me to finish my year, take my final exams in person and see my friends.

I remember my first day back was filled with so much gossip, information gets around my small school faster than wildfire. Apparently, many rumors were circulating about my disappearance. A few of them were funny. One was that I got a boob job. I KNOW RIGHT! To their surprise when I returned with a flat chest. Another rumor was that I was sent ‘back to my country in Afghanistan’. I’m not sure if I mentioned that I went to a very small, Catholic private school in a poor neighborhood that was filled with mostly white students, most who were from the countryside. If you looked even slightly different to them, they would joke about this stuff. I am white of Greek culture. This is was actually offensive to my culture and to the people of Afghanistan. I didn’t give them any attention. They were so ignorant as is and me fighting them would just end up with gaslighting my situation. They eventually found out it was because of my back, and since they couldn’t actually see my scar or wounds, I think it was hard for them to understand what I went through. So many people still didn’t understand even after I explained it to them and replied with ‘that sucks’ or ‘yeah I have scoliosis too’. I understand high school students don’t have the mental capacity to give someone sympathy or politely console others who have experienced pain. I found these comments very insensitive, but I couldn’t blame them. They didn’t know how to respond to me. They couldn’t understand. They have never been through this.

I understand that others may ~have or had~ scoliosis, but obviously it was so minute that it didn’t affect their life. Yet, here they are trying to relate to me? That didn’t make me feel better. It seemed like it was trendy to them. I got really sensitive about the subject matter and never spoke about it again. I thank the friends for trying to understand me and being by my side. I also realized who was actually my friend and who wasn’t. Life is really funny when you are in pain and your friends don’t show up or call you. Another hard lesson to learn so young. These realizations made me very cynical. It made me think twice about my friendships, be more cautious of the people that surround me, and more importantly to stick up for myself. Before, I never spoke for myself or anyone else. I was timid, shy, very to myself (still am if you first meet me), and very nice, like too nice. All of that had to change. It sounds so drastic, but I had just gone through something extreme and saw who was talking bad about me, who showed up for me, and who didn’t. I know people make mistakes, they’re busy, everyone has their own life to tend to, but a simple, sympathetic note or call would have sufficed for me. Maybe, I shouldn’t have taken it so seriously. It was high school after all, and none of that matters to me right now. I am an emotional person and I felt bad. I had every right to feel that way. From then on, I vowed to myself that if I can get through this back surgery, I could get through anything life through at me. I was stronger now, not weaker. I could do anything and I didn’t need anyone else beside me if they didn’t want to support me. This was a life changing moment for me. This surgery made me who I am today. I have no idea where I would be in my life if I didn’t go through this. I am very thankful for it, even though it caused me mental and physical distress.

A few months later in the summer, my family and family friends decided to take a trip to Hawaii to celebrate my recovery (bougie as hell, I know) and let me have some fun since I had been stuck inside for four months. One of the days, my family friend and I decided to ride canoes in the ocean. I was cleared for physical activity and was told to live my life without any restrictions, just to listen to my body and maintain a good lifestyle.

We both went to the canoe guy and signed up on the beach. I grabbed the canoe and pushed it into the ocean as my friend was signing us off with the guy. He asked her about the scar on my back and asked if I was okay to ride the canoe. She said yes and explained that I had surgery earlier in the year. He replied and said something I will never forget for the rest of my life. “Wow, she is a warrior.” That statement meant everything to me because it is what I am, a warrior who has overcome an obstacle in her life.

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The next few years, living with my back became easier, less awkward. I lost a lot of feeling in my back from frayed nerves and scar tissue. Each year, I got more flexible, gained more feeling in my back, and strengthened my body. I worked out three times a week for three years. I wanted to support my back, grow muscles, gain weight, and stay healthy. I was sent to a gynecologist for my period issues and eventually fixed that as well. Below, I answer some common questions I have received in my lifetime as well as some elaborations to how I live my life today.

>I still suffer with back pain every single day of my life. Back pain, to me, has become normal. If I sit too much, lay down too much, or stand too much my back hurts a lot the next day. I am flexible with my spine in that I am able to do everything everyday activities require. I can’t do every single yoga pose on the planet. I am allowed to play sports – many kids who are dancers or gymnasts with scoliosis eventually go back to it. I have to be careful every single time I pick up something heavy and use good posture. Believe it or not, I can still slouch with my lower spine and my shoulders. It isn’t good for me at all, but it is still a habit even with rods down my spine. I can bend over and touch my toes, I can lean side to side, and even twist back and forth.

>Since being in architecture school the past seven years, my physical health has not been good. My back suffers more when I don’t keep a good physical schedule. I plan on going back to working out now that I have graduated with my masters. I stopped working out freshman year of undergrad because my sleep schedule and eating habits were awful and working out was actually hurting me more than helping me. I think a balanced life is important, it is just so difficult to maintain while being an architecture student. It is such a different lifestyle, one that needs to change, but I did what I could. I am still doing what I can.

>I can’t see my back scar physically. I sometimes forget about it. I am not ever aware that there is metal in my back, but I do feel it. When I am mentally aware of it, it feels very weird. It feels like someone is holding my spine with their hand through my back. It is very displeasing. Again, I don’t always feel it because I forget about it.

>My back looks different compared to others and that is okay. I used to be very embarrassed of wearing tank tops or strapless dresses that showed my upper back. I didn’t want someone to notice and ask about it and then I would have to find some explanation and I really didn’t feel like doing that every time I went somewhere. I used to have long hair to cover my upper back. It even took a while to be comfortable with being in a bathing suit. Now, I don’t even think twice about it. Scars are cool and I want to own mine.

>I ended up growing another two inches since my surgery, I am now 5’11”. Where did that height come from? I have no idea, perhaps my legs. It makes me wonder how tall I was actually supposed to be, like without this surgery, could I have been 6′ or taller? Both of my parents are really tall, my father is 6’2″ and my mother is 5’10”, my younger sister is about my height.

>If you have heard of weather pains from other people who have had metal implants in their bodies, they are definitely real. Every Winter, or any cold front coming in, I can feel it in my back. My back gets so stiff and aches. The first few years it would hurt a lot, I’d feel colder than normal, I couldn’t release the stiffness no matter what I did. I guess now I am used to that feeling every Winter because I barely notice that anymore.

>I have met some people with scoliosis who have had the surgery and some that did not. Our neighbor down the street had scoliosis, she is about 80 years old. When she was growing up the procedures were much different back then. They did not have the technology they do now to help people with this issue. She unfortunately could not have the surgery. She had endured so much pain her entire life. I look at her and my body aches. She is contorted, twisted, and so, so fragile. I hug her and I feel her pain. She visited me frequently and was happy that I could have this opportunity. I wish it was the same for her. I have met two young girls with the same surgery as me. I helped one of them with their recovery, which was a rewarding experience. It was heartbreaking to hear her pain, but she is doing great and living her life. This disease isn’t really common to hear, but I was surprised to hear that quite a few people do have it.

>Am I considered disabled? Well, technically yes, but I do not put it on any job application or tell anyone about it unless it is a doctor. I only notify someone if the activity I am doing has potential to hurt my back. I personally do not consider myself disabled. I am able to walk freely and do the every day necessities to live my life with no help and by that definition I do not feel disabled.

I could keep typing out everything that has crossed my mind with my journey, but this post would be a novel, it already is such a long blog post.

If you have any questions, please comment below.

Endnotes

If you got to the end, thank you so much for reading my story. I have been hiding this for so long and I have been reluctant to speak out about it, even to my close friends.

I thank you for being by my side and supporting me.

All photos are taken by Sophia Kountakis. Not sponsored, but some links may be affiliate links where I receive a small commission from your purchase.

outfit: Zara suit (similar top – similar bottom)

My Journey With Scoliosis I have contemplated for many years if I should ever speak about this. I do not like to show my personal life, or experiences that I have been through.

#i have scoliosis #my scoliosis journey #scoliosis #scoliosis awareness month

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