At prom, only one boy asked me to dance because I was in a wheelchair. Thirty years later, I saw him again—and this time, he needed help.

I asked, “Why did you do that?”

He shrugged, a little nervous.

“Because nobody else asked.”

After graduation, my family moved away for long-term rehab, and any chance of seeing him again disappeared.

I spent two years in surgeries and rehab. I learned how to move without falling. I learned to walk short distances with braces, then longer ones without. I learned how easily people mistake survival for healing.

College took me longer than most.