When My Parents Ask Questions I Don't Have Answers To

One of the strange things about monitoring is that everyone wants answers.

The problem is that sometimes there aren't any.

Your parents ask:

"Do you think your back looks different?"

"Do you think your curve got worse?"

"Does your rib hump seem bigger?"

"Do you feel any different?"

And your honest answer is:

"I don't know."

But sometimes it feels like that's not the answer anyone wants.

You may feel pressure to have an opinion.

Pressure to notice changes.

Pressure to know what's happening.

Pressure to be the expert on your own scoliosis.

The truth is that many teens don't know.

And that's okay.

You don't see your back the way other people do.

You don't compare X-rays for a living.

You don't know what your curve is doing every day.

Most of the time, you're just trying to live your life.

Go to school.

Spend time with friends.

Think about things other than scoliosis.

Meanwhile, your parents are trying to gather information.

They're trying to prepare for the next appointment.

They're trying to make sure they aren't missing anything.

So they ask questions.

Lots of questions.

The challenge is that monitoring is filled with uncertainty.

Your parents want answers.

You want answers.

The doctor often doesn't even have all the answers yet.

That's why you're monitoring.

A lot of teens become frustrated because they feel like they're supposed to know things they simply don't know.

Maybe your mom asks:

"Does your back look different to you?"

And you're thinking:

"I look at it every day. I honestly can't tell anymore."

Or maybe someone asks:

"Do you think it's getting worse?"

And you're thinking:

"How would I know?"

Those reactions are completely normal.

In fact, many teens stop trusting their own observations because they're looking at themselves so often.

One day their shoulders seem uneven.

The next day they don't.

One day they think their rib hump looks bigger.

The next day it looks the same.

The more you stare at something, the harder it can be to judge it objectively.

That's why monitoring relies on appointments and X-rays.

Not guesses.

Not daily observations.

Not opinions.

Real measurements.

One thing that can help is being honest when you don't know.

You don't have to come up with an answer.

You don't have to pretend.

You don't have to make a prediction.

It's perfectly okay to say:

"I really can't tell."

"I don't know."

"I haven't noticed anything different."

Those are valid answers.

Because they're truthful.

Another thing worth remembering is that your parents are usually not asking because they expect you to know.

They're asking because they're worried.

They're hoping you'll have information they don't have.

Most of the time, you don't.

And that's okay.

Monitoring is a period of waiting.

Waiting naturally creates questions.

Questions naturally create uncertainty.

And uncertainty naturally creates conversations where nobody has all the answers.

The next time your parents ask a question you can't answer, don't feel pressured to become a scoliosis detective.

You don't need to investigate your body every day.

You don't need to predict the future.

You don't need to know what the next appointment will show.

That's not your job.

Your job is to be a kid living your life.

The answers will come when the appointments come.

Until then, "I don't know" is often the most honest answer you can give.

And sometimes honesty is enough.