Charlotte Rozich

Movement and rhythm are essential to me and inform the way I live my life. Living near Lake Michigan, I appreciate its rhythms, the movement of the waves and the ever-changing shoreline.

As a massage therapist, the way I work often feels like a dance with the client on the table. I stretch and bend my body. Sometimes I reach long, one hand on a calf, and the other on a shoulder, moving up the leg and down the back.

When I get the chance, I like to  dance. Moving my body to music is a form of self-care. If my clients are my dance partners, my solo moves are just for me. 

Until late 2023 I had a body I trusted.

 I had to give up running after a hip replacement in 2017, but I could still hike or walk the beach and dunes for as long as I wanted, and I could work with clients without thinking twice, knowing I could use my body in any way necessary.

Then my left leg began giving out. 

I could be walking down the hall with a client when my left leg would give out and I’d fall. I have fallen in my massage room with a client on the table. I can’t negotiate a curb or a step without hanging on to something or someone. Then I had to start using the cane again. I thought I had given it  up for good a few months after my hip replacement. Over time my leg became so unreliable that I sometimes fall even while using the cane. 

In September 2025, while walking through a local park with my husband and our dog, I fell so suddenly and so hard. My cane came out of my hand and skittered down the path. I hit my face, breaking my nose.

From early 2024 through June 2025 I went through test after test and treatment after treatment looking for answers. In June 2025 a neurologist  said that what was happening was due to cerebral palsy, and suggested using a walker. I  bought one. I’ve only used it twice. It provides stability, but I can’t take it where I want to go. 

I struggled with the idea that cerebral palsy was now the explanation for what was happening to me.  

I wasn’t told I had cerebral palsy until I was 12. My parents took me to my doctor to have him tell me. I guess it never seemed real to me, or like it fit how I saw myself.  I was active. I moved the way I wanted to move. I simply assumed I always would.

Then, in  June 2026, I saw an ad for the C-Brace by Ottobock. What captured my attention first was the picture: A woman wearing the brace and walking nimbly over big rocks like we have near the lighthouse in Grand Haven. Then came the tagline: “Move Like You Used To.” Oh, please sign me up! That’s exactly what I want. The C-Brace isn’t simply about walking further, it’s about the freedom and ease of movement. My body used to know how to do this.

 I love to walk the beach once or twice a week from June through October, but I can’t walk the length of it now without falling. I’m always aware of a constant negotiation happening as I walk. I assess the tightness in my hip, thigh, and knee, and I wonder when it’ll begin to tighten enough to make me fall. 

You know how you don’t have to think about walking across a room or down a beach? Your legs move, and your arms adjust themselves to the rhythm. I have lost that ability.

I went for an evaluation for the brace, and they determined I’d be a good candidate. 

Then came the part I had been hoping for. 

The picture I’d been staring at suddenly became something I could actually try. I got to wear an exoskeleton version in the office. Each brace is custom-fitted, but the exoskeleton gave me a chance to feel what it would be like to wear one and to experience how it can be programmed for the way I move.

 The trial only lasted for about 20 minutes, but everything changed. Even my posture. I walked without calculating every step. I was moving fluidly and it was a revelation. My body remembered how to  do this. 

I’m not one who easily asks for help, and asking for financial assistance makes me nervous. The cost for the C-Brace is $41,639. I have exhausted all avenues with my insurance, and there are no grants available. I was told about Help Hope Live and their fundraising platform. With their help, and with yours, I can move the way my body knows how to move.

I keep thinking of the final scene in the library in The Breakfast Club. Brian is writing the “Who do you think you are” essay for Principal Vernon. He says, “We think you’re crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us: In the simplest terms, the most convenient definitions…”  I am more than a diagnosis or a series of confounding problems. The past two years have made me feel whittled down to just those things. With the C-Brace,  I’ll be able to feel my arms swing as I walk.