Camille Weinberg

The summer before seventh grade, I grew two inches in three hours. 

One night while practicing backbends in our living room, my parents noticed an abnormal hump on the right side of my upper back that caused alarm. I didn't share my parents’ concern. At the orthopedic surgeon’s, I walked into the waiting room with no fear whatsoever. 

And then came the x-ray. I was confused as to how my spine could look so distorted. The doctor explained that due to the severity of the curvature, my only option would be a spinal fusion. 

Two titanium rods. Twenty-six screws. Twenty cubic centimeters of bone graft. Sixteen inches long. Six months impaired. Zero ability to bend. 

Immediately, my life changed. I had six long months until I was allowed to continue what I love, riding horses. All I could think about was the day I would be cleared to continue what was once normal. However, a few weeks into the recovery, my thoughts of six months of boredom turned into six months of desire to make the most of my time spent recovering. I decided to turn to my creative side and expand my knowledge of ceramics. I spent hours on end in my basement throwing bowls, mugs, coasters, and basically whatever ceramic creation that sparked my imagination. Additionally, to encourage daily exercise to gain back the muscle that I lost, my family adopted Liam, a loveable and anxious rescue dog. I tackled dog training the way I did ceramics. Liam can now sit, roll over, play dead, high five, dance, stay, and come when called.

Six months later, I was a new person with a new back. My first day back at the barn, I arrived as early as possible. Forced to use new muscles, I soon realized the unfamiliar feeling of learning something in a different way than I had known my entire life. Currently, with a strong upper body, I am a better equestrian than ever before.

I grew mentally as well. I took a chance and joined James River’s crew team as a rower. I wanted to start participating in something unique, so I jumped at the opportunity ahead of me. However, when I told my doctor about my newfound passion, he told me that rowing was the only unacceptable sport to pursue and insisted that I quit. Refusing to abandon the team, I asked the coach how I could still add value. I found my place in the position that required zero strain on my back, but appealed to my strengths as a leader: the coxswain. A week later, I was leading the women's novice eight down the James River; the position was meant for me, and I loved it.

Now, I am fully healed and so much stronger than ever before. My six months of pain molded me into a more creative, adaptable, and spontaneous person. I may be physically limited, and not to forget two inches taller, but I have a newfound excitement to explore the path ahead.