Original art celebrating the fight.
Do you have experience as a coach or as an official?
Gold singles/moves/pairs judge. Advisor to the Grand Valley
State University synchronized skating team. Learn to Skate instructor at
Griff’s Georgetown and Walker Ice and Fitness.
How many times have you competed at the U.S. Adult Championships?
Nine as a competitor: 2005, ‘06, ‘07, ‘08, ‘10, ‘12, ‘14,
‘16, ‘18. In 2009, I served as co-chair of AN09.
Can you share a favorite memory of the event?
I’ve been at it since 2005, there are so many memories:
- Skating my first program clean at AN05 to Minnie the Moocher.
- Skating under the biggest American flag in the Herb Brooks Arena at AN08.
- Hosting AN09 with Jen, Dee, and Leslie.
- Finally medaling at AN10.
- Doing my Wendy Bear tribute number at AN14.
- Competing with my husband Dave and son Will in attendance at AN16, and hearing Will shout “you were great mom!”
- Being one of the first solo free dance competitors at AN18.
And I love, love, LOVE being a sweeper for the championship
events year in and year out. Closest I’m ever going to get to a championship
event, LOL.
What is/was your cancer diagnosis?
Stage 1 breast cancer.
Where are you in the process? In treatment, in remission, etc.?
I guess you can say I’m currently in recovery. Crossing my
fingers for that 3 month checkup.
How are you feeling?
Feeling great!
Did you find that skating helped you through this difficult situation?
Very much so.
Was it motivational to have the sport in your life as a
way to be active, set goals, and have events to look forward to?
Oh, absolutely. The minute I was given the all clear to return to the rink, I
was there. At the start of radiation, my coach Michelle Wilcome and I made it a
goal to pull together a gold free skate test to work on along with the gold
moves. I did my first-ever full gold free skate run through midway through radiation
treatment. It was terrible. But I did it.
Did you participate in competitions/shows/tests during cancer treatment?
What was that experience like?
My lumpectomy was February 5, and I competed at the Deborah
Burgoyne North American Adult Invitational on February 16.
I was nervous because I wasn’t given permission to resume
normal activities until February 13, and with a hockey tournament at my rink,
my first time back on the ice was my event warmup. Event 1, may I add. I had no
idea how my body would react, especially since I had been off the ice for two
weeks. I landed a salchow on the warmup, and shouted to Michelle, “it didn’t
hurt!” to which she replied “great, now go spin!”
My event was Light Entertainment/Comedy. It was important
for me to show up, skate well, and have fun: a message to myself and others
that I was going to be okay. I didn’t want to use my diagnosis as an excuse to
withdraw. The first time I let cancer be an excuse means it would be easier the
next time to make another excuse. If I was able-bodied, I was doing it.
To Mary Moss and Barb Lazotte: thank you. You both have been
more than competitors through the years, you have been friends. It’s always an
honor to share the ice with you.
How did the skating community (adults or otherwise) show you support when
you needed it most?
The figure skating community was there for me from the
start. I found out about my cancer diagnosis on the way to the US National
Championships in Detroit. I got the call from the oncologist’s office AS
I was checking in for my volunteer shift at the Little Caesars Arena. That’s
how fresh the news was as I encountered one friend after another that
afternoon. I wish I had held it together better, but unfortunately everyone got
ugly cry from me, including Scott Hamilton. Scott has been a role model for me
in the sport for so many reasons, and to get a “you got this” pep talk from him
the day I am diagnosed was beyond surreal. Once the shock of the news died
down, I found relief in being able to focus on my volunteer shifts, the
competition, time with friends, and not think about myself for a while.
As for Adult Nationals, given the timing, the diagnosis and
treatment, I knew it wasn’t possible to compete this year, so I placed myself
on the “disabled list,” and was able to cheer for everyone in Salt Lake City from
afar. Little did I know what The Adult Skating Committee had in store for me…
I was on a work call when I noticed social media blew up, and
people tagging me in the live Facebook feed from the adult skating committee
meeting. I’m tearing up now recalling the messages from everyone, and for you
to “pink the rink” the Friday of the competition. Then came everyone posting
images of themselves either at the competition or at home wearing pink in my
honor. Thank you, everyone.
Are there specific people whom you’d like to thank?
WHERE TO START?! This is going to be like one long award
acceptance speech.
I have the best husband and son in the world. Thank you,
David for insisting scars are intriguing (he said sexy, but this is a family
publication). And Will, you amazing creature, who said to me at 5am before my
surgery, “It’s ok mom, that’s life. You have to experience stuff.”
Kim Coxe, Dave and Sue Bakke, Jennifer Simon, Jim
Achtenberg, Kim Ellsworth-Flores, Denise Hendershot, Jennifer Schindler, Robin
Johnson, and Maureen Linhardt who supported me at the Detroit Nationals – sorry
for the ugly crying.
Arlene and Cas Kaczmarek, how lucky we are to have you as
our adult skating parents.
My tribe, the West Michigan Adult Skaters, for their endless
support. From vibrant pink bouquets to colorful socks, from attempts at child
care to custom made naughty earrings as well as a special custom-themed piñata
to celebrate the end of treatment, you never once let me doubt you had my back,
er, front.
Judges and officials from the Midwestern Section who looked
after me through the course of my treatments to make sure I was ok. Special
thank you to Doreen Young, Phyllis Little, Ginger Charles, Holly Jinks, and
Richard Dalley.
Thank you to the Adult Skating Committee, especially you,
Lori, Lexi, and Rachel Firlik for thinking of giving me such a grand and public
gesture of love at a particularly low moment during treatment. Oh my God, I’m
ugly crying again just typing this… Allergies, it’s allergies.
And to the adult skating community, you are my tribe. Thank
you for your support via snail mail, social media, texts, and more. Love you all.
What advice would you give to other skaters who have been diagnosed with
cancer?
This is hard, since everyone’s experience is so different. For
me, the waiting was the worst part. Once I had a diagnosis and a treatment
plan, I could deal.
It’s going to be an emotional time, so it’s ok to be angry
and it’s ok to be scared. Allow it. But also know it’s ok to find ways to heal
yourself.
I relied heavily on humor. Whenever I started to feel angry,
scared, sad, or sorry for myself, I looked at the situation from a different point
of view, in what I jokingly started to refer to as “taking it out of context.”
It was this perspective that turned an intimidating appointment at the
radiation simulation lab into a wild lunch hour getting tattoos and playing
with expensive toys. And since I found it absurd talking about my breasts day
in and day out, I took the opportunity to post daily chicken breast recipes on
social media instead.
I also relied on what I referred to as “musical oncology.” Right around the timing of nationals, I typically I get obsessed with a band or performer. Given the timing of my diagnosis and the success of the movie Bohemian Rhapsody, that band was Queen. It was easy to find comfort and a bit of distraction revisiting their catalog through my journey. The radiation treatment team got into it, tuning Spotify to the Queen channel during my
appointments, and I think I turned a younger generation onto the band in the meantime. Appropriately, “Body Language,” “We Are the Champions,” and “Keep Yourself Alive” were on the playlist during my final treatment. Awesome.
