Keep right on!

My pectus condition began to show when I was about twelve. I hated PE (or PT as it was known then) suffering ridicule from other boys. I eventually managed to be excused from games but was so ashamed of my chest that I couldn't even let my mother see it (my father was killed in WW2). Eventually it was noticed at a school medical (physical) when I was fifteen and I had an operation on it. This wasn't very successful and the consultant had another go at it when I was seventeen putting a steel plate across the sternum. This was removed six moths later. The operation seemed reasonably successful for a year or two but eventually, despite exercises, my rib cage reverted back to almost as it had been. In retrospect, I think if I had had the first op earlier it would have been more successful, but my being so ashamed to seek medical help made this impossible for me. An illustration of how psychologically damaging PE can be? I've had one or two relationships but my poor self-image hasn't helped any, and being predominantly gay made it more difficult. My church music (organist/choirmaster and piano-playing for worship songs) has brought admiration from some quarters and given me a much-needed uplift in life. But oh to have been able to live (and love) a life without this particular handicap!