Invincible

Invincible 

I think of the little girl 

who will wear this spinal  

jacket, its candy pink hardness 

coated with butterflies 

forcing her kyphotic spine 

into conformity. 

Clasped between its two halves, 

like a turtle shell 

it will keep her protected  

from the taunts of others – 

Cripple! Hunchback! 

These names will bounce off  

her new suit of armor, 

like ricocheting bullets. 

Inside, she starts to grow,  

straightens like a sapling  

seeking the sun. 

She begins to feel  

Invincible. 

I wrote this poem while a trainee in rehabilitation medicine, working at a specialist center that provided services for children and adults with orthopedic, spinal, and rheumatological conditions.  

I had arranged a visit to the orthotists’ workshop, to learn more about the work of these skilled professionals who specialize in designing, making and fitting braces and other devices that assist in a person’s independence. 

As I entered the workshop, I was drawn to a pink plastic spinal jacket on a small tailor’s manikin. I was used to seeing adult patients wearing spinal jackets post-operatively, but these were plain and functional jackets, made with the primary purpose of supporting the spine, and not aesthetics. This one was clearly for a child, pink with hand-painted multicolored butterflies dotted on the front and back. It was a work of art. 

I wrote this poem after speaking to the orthotist about the little girl who was going to wear this spinal jacket as part of the management of her kyphosis. She had asked for a pink jacket with butterflies on it—a beautiful example of person-centered care by the orthotist. 

I would never meet this little girl but felt moved to write about how I imagined her, the hardness and probable discomfort of the plastic jacket contrasted with the relatively softer pink and gentle butterflies becoming part of her identity, shielding her from the “ricocheting bullets” of name-calling from others. I thought of how this jacket would support her as she grew, her inner resilience growing too, I hoped. I imagined her face full of delight as she went for her first fitting and wished I could have been there to witness that moment.  

Writing poetry can be a means to expand your capacity for empathy, putting oneself in another’s shoes; in this case, a child I would never meet. It can invite us to have a more compassionate view of what our patients may face.  

This poem was commended in the Hippocrates Prize for Poetry and Medicine, 2013, and first published in the competition anthology, 2013. It was subsequently published in “These are the Hands: Poems from the Heart” of the NHS anthology, Fairacre Press, 2020, and Atrium Poetry, 2020. 

This piece expresses the views solely of the author. It does not necessarily represent the views of any organization, including Johns Hopkins Medicine.