My Kyphosis

This story takes place a few years ago, when I was living in Eastern Europe. I was in my 20’s, and as young, single male, I had been looking for adventure and a chance to break away from my suburban childhood. After college, I started working for a large multi-national company, and when the European opportunity opened up, I jumped at it.

I really enjoyed the years I spent there. Although I was based in Budapest, I had traveled all over the region, including to parts of the former USSR. It was fascinating watching the whole area transform from communism to capitalism. New opportunity arose all the time, but some old habits die hard. My experience with the medical system was the same.

One day, I was visiting the company doctor. He visited our office every Tuesday afternoon to do routine checkups and deal with any medical concerns the staff had. After he’d done the usual physical exam, he paused and said to me, “Paul, has anyone ever discussed your posture with you?” Now, I knew my posture wasn’t perfect. I had a habit of slouching, and would catch myself doing it now and then when I saw my reflection in a window or mirror. The doctor continued, “I’ve seen you a few times now, and you always look stooped over. Some exercises might help that, but it’s also possible you need medical help. I want to send you to see a specialist.” With that he picked up the phone, made a couple of calls, and handed me a note scribbled on a piece of paper. It read, “Dr. Kypov, 428b Marx Boul., Oct. 29, 1630 hrs”. “Dr. Kypov is an old military doctor from Russia. He’s famous for having no bedside manner, but he knows all about backs and back problems. You’ll be well looked after there. Take care, and let me know how it turns out”. As I left the doctor’s office, I took another look at his note. October 29 was only a few weeks away.

I had no idea what would go on when I went to see Dr. Kypov, so I forgot about the whole thing quickly. That afternoon rolled around before I knew it, and I left work a bit early to get to his office. It was upstairs in an old building, above a fresh produce shop. I rang the bell, was buzzed in, and walked to the top of the dingy wooden staircase. Waiting for me at the top of the stairs was a tall man in his 50’s, wearing a well-worn white lab coat. “I am Dr. Kypov”, he said firmly with a thick Russian accent. He held out his hand, and shook mine with a grip of iron. I looked back meekly and introduced myself. He continued to talk as he led me to an exam table in the next room. “So you are here about you posture. I can fix dat. Take off you shirt.” I could only obey. He had me sit, stand, bend forward, and bend backward as he look around on all sides. Then he told me to stand up straight. I did so, but he told me to stand straighter. No matter what I did, he was not happy. He walked over to me, put one hand on the middle of my back, and another on the top of my chest. Then he pushed a bit, and said, “Now you are straight.” But as soon as he let go, I returned back to my slouch.

He motioned for me to follow him to the next room. “Dere is only one solution for you. I must give you a brace vor dee back. Don’t worry. You’ll like it.” I was about to open my mouth and ask what he meant, how it would affect me, and all that stuff, but he was only interested in gathering some supplies from a closet. He handed me a pair of transparent, thin plastic pants with a drawstring at the waist. “Take off all your clothes and put dese on”, he said. “We will make a cast of your back, and in a few days, you will get your brace.”

I did as he instructed, and stood in front of him wearing nothing but a piece of clear plastic. With lightning speed, he wrapped strips of dripping wet gauze all around me, from my buttocks up to my armpits, and a little higher in the front. I was then told to wait and stand perfectly still until the plaster body cast was dry. Once that was done, Dr. Kypov returned, carefully removed the cast, and sent me to a shower to wash off. Once done, he was standing there waiting impatiently for me to get dressed. “OK, dat is goot for today. You can go now. Come back next week, same day, same time.” And with that, he showed me the door.

Well, I didn’t know what to make of all that. The guy seemed a bit odd to me. And there was no one else in the place – no receptionist, no other patients. Anyway, I didn’t let it worry me too much. I’m sure his years in the Russian military didn’t make him an easy man to work for. I was kind of looking forward to solving this slouching problem, and he definitely seemed to know what to do about it.

A week later, I returned to get my brace. Dr. Kypov was waiting in his office and looked pleased to see me. “Ah! My goot friend has returned for his veeseet. You will be happy for dis.” English was never his strong point, I thought to myself. He grabbed a plastic and metal contraption from the shelf. “Now take off your clothes”, he said. I stripped as far as the undies. “No, all of dem”, he barked at me. I complied, and stood in front of him naked once again.

He showed me the brace at its parts. It was quite simple – a plastic girdle that wrapped around my waist, hips, and buttocks, a short metal bar that went halfway up my back and ended with a thick pad. Two smaller bars went sideways from there, wrapped under my arms and ended at the top of the front bar, where there was another thick pad on my upper chest. He showed me how to put it on and off, and afterwards, looked please with his handiwork. “Its purpose is to make you stand better. You will wear it between 10 and 12 hours per day, no more, no less. When you are not wearing it, think about how you stand. Imagine the brace is holding you, but of course it is not”, he said.

I stood there wearing only the brace as he checked the fit. It held me nice and straight – I felt taller already. The back pad pushed in my spine, and made my chest stick out a little. It felt OK, and because I knew it was helping me, I was happy. As quickly as all that, Dr. Kypov told me to come back in another week, and ushered me out as soon as I had pulled my clothes back on over the brace.

As I walked to get the subway and head back to my apartment, I felt proud of my new acquisition. Under the jacket I was wearing, it was hardly noticeable. I hurried home, and gave the brace a more complete investigation. The plastic girdle was the most interesting part – it was made in two pieces, front and back. They fit together carefully, but were easily removed with the special key Dr. Kypov had given me. The inside of the girdle was covered with a soft felt lining, and was comfortable right against my skin. The back was very low, and really gripped my buttocks. In the front, the girdle rose above my waist, just to the bottom of my ribcage. On the sides, it hugged the top of my pelvis at the waist. The front and back bars were resting in plastic slots in the girdle, and then riveted into position. Both pads in front and back were exactly in the places where Dr. Kypov had pressed his hands last week when I first saw him. And the bars holding the front and back together went just along the sides of my ribcage without actually touching my body unless I twisted myself a little. He really had made a fine work of art here.

Although the brace was comfortable to wear, I chose to spend my 10 to 12 hours in the evening and overnight. This way I didn’t have to explain to everyone at work what was wrong with me. In fact, with Dr. Kypov’s bad English, I didn’t know what was wrong. All I knew was that the brace was supposed to help. So nothing really changed in my life, and another week later, I went back to Dr. Kypov’s office. This was just a simple check of the work, and he looked pleased. The brace was helping my back, and there were no problems with redness or chafing of my skin.

Then the following week, I went back once again. This time, Dr. Kypov was standing right at the top of the stairs, and he didn’t look happy. “I have just watched you walk up the street and into my office. Your new brace may help your back, but it is causing other problems. Dis is not goot enough, and must be fixed right now.” I was confused. I thought everything had gone fine, and I had worn the brace exactly as he told me to. “Look at you”, he barked and pointed at my shoulders with his finger, “Your back is good up to here, and den terrible tings going on.” I tried to pull my shoulders back a bit, and then raise my head when he pushed at it, but it was a real strain to keep it there. I hadn’t realized that in the last few years I had spent more time looking down instead of ahead, and it had ruined my neck muscles.

“We will correct dis wit two tings. You will get a better brace, and you must do special exercises. I will show how. Now take off you clothes.” Not again, I thought to myself. I wasn’t really ashamed of my body, but he was always getting me to take off my clothes. He went to another closet, and pulled out several short and long metal bars. “I will fit you wit the new brace right now.” Everything with him was always “right now”, but I went along in fear of what else he might do to me.

I handed him my old brace, and he quickly took it right apart. Also in this unusual doctor’s office was a variety of tools to work with metal and plastic parts. It seemed that he did all the brace-making himself. He went back and forth to the workbench, his parts closet, and to me, each time measuring another part of my upper body. About 45 minutes later, he picked up a now much scarier looking brace from the workbench. “You see what I have done. Dis is de same bottom part, but wit extra parts for you shoulder and neck”, he said. Well that was true.

He helped me into the new brace. Everything that was there before was still there, but now two round pads held back my shoulders. My head was forced back into one position by a molded plastic piece under the back of my jaw, a metal ring around my neck, and two pads at the base of my skull. This was really uncomfortable because my muscles were strained. Also, I couldn’t really turn my head, and I couldn’t move it up or down at all. All of sudden I didn’t like this any more, and I couldn’t wait to get home and take it off.

He interrupted my thoughts “You don’t look so happy my friend. Dis is for your own good. And to be sure you work wit me, I have change de brace so only I can take it off.” My eyes opened wide, and I must have stared at him like he had two heads. He continued “To get your exercise, you will come here tree time per week, start wit tomorrow. I will take off de brace, and we will do exercise. All other time, you will wear de brace. Dis is goot. Dis is a special brace from Amerika, from the city of Milwaukee. You are from Amerika. You will enjoy de brace.” I couldn’t be bothered to argue with his logic, and I just wanted to get out of there. Dr. Kypov helped me get dressed this time. My clothes barely fit over the brace now, and I was sure the whole thing was visible to everyone. At least I had a jacket with me again this time. Of course, the top of the brace around my neck was plainly obvious.

Dr. Kypov showed me the stairs again, but this time reminded me to hold on, because I couldn’t look down to see them. I walked out onto the street, and felt like my head was stuck up in one position. I’m sure everyone was staring, but of course I couldn’t look around to check. I got home as fast as possible, and went quickly to the bathroom to look in the mirror. This was terrible. All I asked for was a little help correcting my posture, and now I was stuck in a brace that would constantly remind me, my friends and my coworkers that it existed. I moped around my apartment that evening trying to find something to take my mind off the brace, but nothing worked. When I watched TV, I sunk down too far down into the easy chair and the chin mold jammed up into the back of my lower jaw. Trying to read the newspaper was just as hard, because I had to hold it up to see it. When I went to move some things around the apartment, it was twice as much work to bend down and guess where they were. But I had to do it eventually, so I spent some time moving things I used a lot to higher shelves where I could see them easily. Even the shoulder pads made this harder, because I couldn’t move my arms very far forward.

The first night was terrible as well, for two reasons. The brace poked me in a few new places, and I couldn’t sleep with a pillow. Then I lay awake for hours worrying about what people would say about me at work. I almost convinced myself to call in sick in the morning, but eventually worked up the courage to go to the office. I chose the best clothes I could find to hide the brace, but there was nothing I could do about the neck ring. It just stuck out like a sore thumb.

The reaction I got at work was exactly the opposite of what I expected. Everyone was amazingly supportive and sympathetic. My boss said there was no problem leaving early to go to the exercise sessions with Dr. Kypov, and everyone else did their best to make me feel no different that normal. That afternoon was the first day for exercise, and it would be my first chance to get out of this uncomfortable brace in 24 hours.

The exercise turned out to be a group session. At almost the same time as I walked into Dr. Kypov’s office, several other people walked in. To my surprise, they were all wearing braces that obviously had the same type of neck ring and shoulder pads. There were four of them, one guy and three girls. All of them looked a few years younger than me. I soon discovered that one of the girls, named Anna, spoke pretty good English. The rest of them seemed to only speak Hungarian. Anna just started to explain that Dr. Kypov was very strict and used unconventional methods, when he walked briskly into the waiting room and gave some order in Hungarian that caused everyone to jump up and move quickly to the room where his workshop was located. On one side were 5 stools and 5 mats, arranged in a large semi-circle.

Dr. Kypov said a few words in Hungarian, and then spoke to me in English. “The others know what to do. You follow them. I will explain if it is not clear.” He did take a moment to introduce me to everyone else before I took my place on the stool at one end of the semi-circle. Everyone started by removing their shirts and pants. Dr. Kypov made some comment that everyone must be comfortable. From my position at the end of the group I was surprised to see that none of the girls in the group had been wearing a bra under their shirt, so all of us were now dressed only in underpants and our braces.

While still sitting on the stools, we did a variety of upper body exercises, including arm movements, chest thrusts, pelvic tilts, and attempting to pull ourselves up out of the brace. Then we got down onto the mats, and did push ups, more pelvic tilts, and other similar exercises. It was almost like our own customized aerobics class, except that our movements were pretty limited. After about half an hour, we had to wait a moment while Dr. Kypov started at other end of semi-circle removing braces from the others in the group. Anna turned to talk to me. “I hope we don’t embarrass you here. It was a little uncomfortable first with so little clothing, but we are all friends now and no one minds at all.” Seeing she brought up the topic, I had to ask about not wearing bras. She responded that because the brace and bra straps interfered with each other, bras were very uncomfortable to wear (even more than normal). It was one of the benefits to the group session, because they could all discuss this issue and agree to solve it the same way. Anna even made point of showing off the special breast holders Dr. Kypov had added to her brace. No doubt with her large breasts, her back problems must have been even worse. I felt much more comfortable, and clearly Anna had no shame showing off her brace and body to me.

After our braces were all removed, we returned to doing more exercises. This was so normal that no one even bothered to put their clothes back on. We did a variety of stretching and bending exercises, and then repeated all the previous exercises we had done in the brace, but without the brace this time. All too soon, Dr. Kypov barked something that sounded like “enough!”. The second half-hour had flown by as I lost myself in the repetitions of the exercises. We returned to our stools, as it was time for everyone to take a quick shower. Anna and I were last, so we got talking about program. She filled me in on the details that had literally been lost in the translation.

She told me again how the exercise sessions created an excellent support group. She and the others were really proud of their braces, and how they helped fix their back problems. Everyone in the group had something called “kyphosis”, which meant they had trouble standing up straight. After being referred to the program, most patients stay about 5 years. For 4 years, they do what we are doing, wearing the brace almost 24 hours a day, and then they spend the last year gradually learning to live without the brace. All of the patients in the program are over 16 years old, and normally they are less than 30. Dr. Kypov also treats younger patients in private sessions, and with help of their parents.

This all amazed me. I never realized how much business an old Russian military doctor could get from people with bent backs. I also had to the let the bit about “5 years” sink in for a moment. That was going to be a long time in my life, and there was no way I’d be able to keep all of this a secret from my parents and friends back home. Although I suppose that seeing there was really something wrong with me, I shouldn’t try to hide it. I am the way I am, and I’m doing the right thing to fix it. My little talk with Anna had been a huge help. All of a sudden I went from being a reluctant and unhappy brace wearer to someone who could overcome this with a positive attitude. Of course it was quickly time for my 5 minutes in the shower, and then letting Dr. Kypov put the brace back on, but I wore it proudly from that day on.