"Look! One of her legs is shorter than the other!" exclaimed my grandfather in what would be the beginning of my spica cast journey to correct congenital hip dysplasia at 13 months of age. A few surgeries and a kid in a cast and traction bars didn't scare my mother as much as being home alone for days or weeks on end without the ability to go anywhere or see anyone. Thankfully she married an ingenious engineer who modified a radio flyer red wagon so that the sides extended out and I could go in, cast and all. We trekked everywhere in that red wagon, and now, 28 years later, family and friends can still recall how happy our family looked all together with me being toted around in our wagon.
