Life at MA • Personal Essay

What It’s Like to Live with an Invisible Disability at Marin Academy

By Bradford Applestein '29 in Winter 2026

As a toddler, I was diagnosed with fibular hemimelia, a birth defect where the fibula (the outer bone of your lower leg) is missing or, in my case, shorter than it should be. This manifests as a leg-length difference: my right leg is several inches shorter than my left. My right ankle bone is also shaped incorrectly, and I don't have the pinky toe on my right foot. But just from looking at me, it's very difficult to tell I have this. This is an invisible disability.

They're not uncommon: Disabled World estimates more than 34 million Americans have an invisible disability. These can range from ADHD to epilepsy to Lyme disease. Though invisible disabilities are difficult to notice, they have very real effects on those who have them. I, for one, have already had two major leg surgeries to try to correct my leg-length difference, with another one waiting for me once I graduate. Activities like running can be extremely painful, and walking on hills isn't much better. Not to mention the difficulty of shoe shopping with feet two sizes apart. One of the biggest struggles I've faced as someone with an invisible disability is how others respond to it. I look like a perfectly able-bodied person, and so when I take the elevator instead of the stairs, it can look like I'm just lazy.

Though I don't have a handicap placard, I still have a disability, and one that has seriously interfered with my life. I'm very proud of how MA has approached invisible disabilities. I was able to get the accommodations that I need to participate in school, and I'm practically never judged for having them. I'm sure I'm not the only one with an invisible disability here at MA, but I've personally seen a very kind and inclusive community for people with disabilities.

Though having a disability is not something I necessarily enjoy having, it's become a core part of my identity. I wrote my high-school application essay about it. There've certainly been positive things that have come about as a result of my disability, and my fibular hemimelia has certainly built character, from the hours of physical therapy to facing my fear of having a surgery. I certainly can't speak on behalf of everyone in the disabled community, but for me, my disability feels like a core part of me, no matter who can see it.