The 1500-seat arena was packed. All eyes on me twenty-five feet in the air. I pulled up the trapeze, swung out, did a somersault, and grabbed my catcher’s hands. The audience erupted in applause. I knew that moment I’d never feel a rush like that again.

Growing up in a town that housed an amateur circus, I started performing after seeing the show when I was seven. With the kids in their sparkling costumes, clowns making everyone laugh, hearing the band playing Hey Look Me Over, and the ringmaster announcing, “The Greatest Amateur Show on Earth,” I knew I belonged in the circus. It was like being in a kingdom full of kings, queens, and jesters.

My uncle made me a trapeze. He hung it on a large branch on a tree in front of my house. Mom put a mattress underneath. I used a small ladder as my pedestal. I practiced on my trapeze until it got dark outside.

When I walked into the arena for my first practice, it looked gigantic. I met my first coach, Betty. She taught Swinging Ladders. The ladders swung ten feet in the air while the performers did tricks on the rungs. Betty was a professional performer who started out doing somersaults on horseback and became an aerialist. She was in the circus for 27 years. Betty had pure white hair and matching white teeth when she smiled.

I started trapeze skills with Willie. He was the great “Human Cannonball,” thrilling crowds worldwide with his 60-foot flights from the smoking cannon into a net 200 feet away. His greatest flight was over a giant Ferris wheel at New York’s World’s Fair. I adored that fiery little man with the German accent. Willie told me that my skills were “fantabulous”, a word he used often. I told him I had my own trapeze at home. He said “fantabulous” again.

There are only fifty amateur circuses in the country that showcase kids performing like professionals. I got to be one of them. Every summer was dedicated to the circus. I couldn’t have imagined the impact it would have as I grew into adulthood.

At thirteen, I made the “Highflying Freebirds” trapeze act that closed every show and was the dream of every kid watching. It created a whole book of priceless memories.

That summer I almost had a tragic end. Since being diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, my neurologist discussed the possibility this incident forty years earlier may have contributed to it.

The trick was “passing leap.” The catcher caught me by my ankles; and another flyer did a somersault over me as the catcher turned me back to the trapeze. Something went wrong, and we collided. I was going to miss the net. A spotter saw me falling and caught me under the armpits. Like a rag doll, I flopped, my feet hit the concrete, jarring my lower back, and fracturing my tailbone. But I lived.

It’s impossible to determine the cause of my Multiple Sclerosis, but blunt force trauma to the head or spine can lead to progression. I owe my life to that spotter saving my head from hitting the concrete. But I was determined to fly again, and I did four weeks later.

Being a highflyer gave me strength and determination that I carried into my life, and I desperately needed following my MS diagnosis. The circus and its impact straightened my trajectory. My future began high in the center ring. I was ready to fly then, and now, despite my disease, I feel like I am still soaring!