Badger News
Brooklyn Medland bravely shares her story:
In the fall of 2021, I walked into the doctor’s office as any other 11-year-old girl, unaware that one visit would change everything. When I walked out, I wasn’t the same.
Hearing the words “CMT,” I had no idea what they meant. What followed was a blur of doctor’s appointments, slipping grades, and relentless bullying. No matter if it was at practice by my teammates, classmates in school, or people at work. I couldn’t escape the mean and hurtful comments. In the early days of my diagnosis, I felt lost—struggling to understand what was happening to me, let alone explain it to others.
Charcot-Marie-Tooth (CMT) disease is a genetic disorder that affects the nerves controlling movement and feeling in the arms and legs. It causes muscle weakness, loss of coordination, and reduced sensation, making activities like walking, balancing, and using fine motor skills more challenging. There is no cure at this time, and it affects about 1 in every 2,500 people, including me.
Through all the ups and downs of my journey, one thing has never left my side—volleyball. My doctors told me I would never be able to play sports, but volleyball proved them wrong. It’s a fast-paced, competitive sport where every point is earned by sending the ball over the net. More than just a game, it has become my passion, my escape.
Being an athlete with a disability is like working a full-time job. At practice, people see the energetic girl who loves to rule the court. But what they don’t see is the girl who has days when she can’t get out of bed. The girl who goes to physical therapy every Monday. The girl who has a dream but watches her physical ability slowly fade. The girl who wears AFOs under her pants. The girl who just wishes she was normal.
In sports, because of my disability, it’s hard for people to picture me as an athlete. People notice that my calves are too small and that my legs look different. They don’t see the work, the fight, or what I’ve been through.
In 2022, I had major reconstructive surgery on my left foot. Doctors had to cut my Achilles tendon in half and lengthen it. They had to transfer tendons, insert metal plates, and screw everything back together just so I could walk properly again.
Because of the surgery, I lost over 40% of the muscle in my left calf. Regaining that muscle has been an incredibly hard battle, made even harder by my condition. Every step I take, every rep I push through, it reminds me how much harder I have to fight compared to most.
But even when people doubt me — even when my own body tries to hold me back — I’m still here. I’m still an athlete.
The truth is, I don’t know how long my body will allow me to play. But that won’t stop me from trying. My dream is to one day play on the big stage, and when I do, I want to share my story with every little girl out there.
Your disability does NOT define you!
-Brooklyn Medland
