#4 Walking with a broken femur

Those who know me very well know that I have a unique genetic bone disorder--osteogenesis imperfecta. Yes, I can even spell it without looking it up. I was diagnosed before the age of 2 and after my parents underwent the modern day Inquisition. "Exactly how did your daughter break her leg this time?" was a standard question from the ER doctors reviewing my files. Fortunately, they decided to do some testing, instead of finger pointing. 

If you ever look at my childhood pictures, I'd venture to say I'm casted in 3 out of every 5. At least that's how it feels. There was a span of time that I didn't hang out with some part of my body casted. Unfortunately, as I've hit my mid to late 20s I've also started injuring myself more. Ugh. The joke at my job is, "What will you injure this year?" In the past five years, students have seen me in an immobilizer (a misdiagnosed ACL tear, since those afflicted with OI are more flexible than other humans), a wrist brace (no one was ever quite sure why I couldn't move it), crutches (unrelated to OI, but still CRUTCHES), and a boot (for the everlasting, makes me so happy stress fracture, my most recent injury). 

OI is part of who I am. It taught me that nothing--physical or mental--can hold me back. Time heals all wounds, right? At the ripe old age of 4, while wearing footie pajamas, I slid down the stairs at home. Immediately I started screaming. My mom thought I hit my head. My dad immediately sprung into action and transferred me to an extra piece of kitchen counter he had in the basement, then carried me down the front steps. I couldn't tell you what happened after that and before I ended up in traction for six weeks. I remember meeting Wendy, the best nurse a 4 year old could ask for. Even though I don't know why she was so great now. After traction, came weeks of both legs in a cast and a bar diagonally across the middle. It was a sight.

Furthermore, it was supposed to be a barrier. I wasn't supposed to walk. I was supposed to sit in the bean bag chair my mother had borrowed from someone. Throughout life so far, I wasn't supposed to do alot of things, but I have each time. Beating the odds has always kind of been my thing and I'm positive it dates back to the broken femur. I didn't care what anyone said, I was going to do what I was going to do. Hmmm sounds familiar...

Osteogenesis Imperfecta