I’m a Natural Faller
Before Mike and I even got married, we made a list of things we wanted to do together. It’s not really a bucket list, but it’s close. Anyway, among several things including “visit Italy” and “go hunting,” we wrote “skydive together.” I’ve been before, but I wanted something different—where I could stand on part of the wing of the plane!
We thought about it, but of course life and work got in the way. I kept thinking I’d do this or that when the kids got old enough… I saved everything for “tomorrow.” And then time stopped.
Doctors discovered stage four melanoma and gave me two years.
Cancer has taken a lot from me since 2018, and I’ve tried to settle in to the fact that there are things I just can’t do anymore. Friends, family, and especially medical professionals have told me: I should never fly in airplanes (because I’ve had several blood clots). They don’t want me around big crowds (because of COVID). They don’t want me traveling too far from the hospital (since I almost died from sepsis near Yellowstone last year). AND they definitely don’t want me skydiving.
But when our epic daughter, Sky, told us she wanted to skydive with the family for her 18th birthday, I really wanted to go. So I called several places around Pocatello. A woman in Utah made me cry. “That’s incredibly selfish of you to want to go skydiving. You have advanced cancer. You could put the instructor in danger!”
I tried changing the subject. “Oh. Well… No worries. Um…I won’t go. But how much is a down payment for my two oldest daughters and my husband?”
She wouldn’t drop the subject. And I finally interrupted her monologue. “Enough,” I cried, sobbing almost uncontrollably. “I’m still f-f-fighting cancer. I don’t need this! You have n-no idea what I’m dealing with…or what my exact situation is like. I already told you I won’t go.” And I hung up the phone.
After taking a couple of days to calm down, I tried one last place: Sky Down in Caldwell, Idaho—almost four hours away.
“We help people who have cancer quite a bit,” the woman said on the phone. “It’s a pretty common bucket list item.”
“But…I can’t lift my legs. I have so many health issues.”
“This is something you really want to do, isn’t it?” she asked so politely.
“Yes,” I said. “It is.” But I worried because I struggle to stand up straight, lift my legs far off the ground, and I’m always so nauseous from cancer treatments. The last thing an instructor needed would be throw up hitting their face at terminal velocity!
But the lady on the phone, Denise, allayed my fears. In fact, when we got to the place this weekend, the instructor went over several things, explaining how if anything went wrong he would roll with me so neither one of us would get hurt. He’d strap me tightly to him, and we would land sitting. He even had a special chute that delays deployment to avoid extra jolting. I couldn’t believe it. My dream of going skydiving with Mike would come true, but more than that, we would get to experience this with our two oldest daughters (Ruby and Sky) while our two youngest kids watched. It would be incredible.
And it was! Skydiving a second time was totally different from the first because I got to enjoy it with Mike and all of the kids too. I absolutely loved seeing their joy as we watched each person land and while Indiana and Trey cheered everyone on even saying, “The Sky is falling,” when Sky did her jump.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to lift my legs how we hoped, and several seconds before landing, my right leg drooped at an angle, caught on the ground, and forced us to plummet toward weeds and gravel. Fortunately, the amazing Portuguese skydive instructor—who speaks about a million languages and is so witty—rolled so the most we sustained were some cuts and bruises. “Oh, my gosh! Are you okay?” I asked after we ground to a halt.
“Are you kidding?!” he said. “I’m totally fine. I do this for a living. I’m just worried about you.”
After we got back to the hanger, when everyone had completed their jumps, I talked with Denise and discovered some pretty profound things about Sky Down. They have helped so many people accomplish their dreams—people just like me. Some have been told they would die from terminal sicknesses. Others suffer from various physical ailments and were told they would never skydive again. This group of altruistic skydivers even helped someone who has quadriplegia. They used a pulley system which held up their legs so they could safely land.
I gave Denise my book, “Two More Years,” a huge hug, and the biggest smile. “Thank you so much for making this a reality for me. Doctors are starting to say I might actually beat this. But regardless,” I looked over at the skydive instructor and the pilot of the plane who both sat near the front entrance, “you’ve given all of us a memory we’ll never forget for Sky’s 18th birthday. You’ve made it so special.”
And to think, they’ve done this for so many other people. It’s astounding.
Today as Ruby smiled, talking about how much she loved free-fall, and Sky beamed looking at how they caught her E = mc2 tattoo in a photo of her plummeting next to the moon, I couldn’t help feeling the happiest I’ve been in a long time.
Sure I’m still fighting, nauseas from my monthly treatments, and a bit bruised from learning how to ”stop, drop, and roll,” I’m so grateful. I’m still alive. And I get to be experiencing so many miracles each day with my adventurous family.
Who cares that I didn’t stick the landing? I got to go skydiving with some of the best people EVER and all of us lived!
