- Kara Skrubis was 18 when she was diagnosed with a rare bone cancer.
- She was majoring in dance, until she needed her leg amputated.
This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Kara Skrubis, the Junior Advisory Board President for MIB Agents, an organization that provides resources for osteosarcoma patients and their families. It has been edited for length and clarity.
Like many little girls, I started dancing as a toddler. By 11 I was dancing en pointe and traveling around the Northeast to learn from different dance instructors. At 5 '11", I was often picked on for my height, but in ballet, tall was beautiful. Dance let me feel at peace with and in control of my body.
In college, I decided to major in ballet. Whether I became a professional dancer or a teacher, I knew I always wanted dance to be part of my life.
That became more complicated when I started experiencing knee pain during my freshman year. I went to urgent care, where I was told I'd likely sprained it. But by winter break I couldn't walk, let alone dance. Soon after I was diagnosed with osteosarcoma, a rare bone cancer that most impacts children.
Doctors gave me a choice between three types of surgery
My bone was so fragile that I couldn't put any weight on my leg. I put school and dance on hold while I began three months of chemotherapy. After that, I would need surgery where doctors removed the area of the bone that had cancer. There are three common options for osteosarcoma patients: limb-saving surgery (where a metal rod is inserted into the leg), rotationplasty (where the knee joint is removed and the ankle joint is rotated to act as a replacement knee), or above-the-knee amputation.
Through MIB Agents, I connected with patients who had each type of surgery. I asked more than a dozen people about their decisions. I also talked to my mentor, a girl slightly older than me who was thriving in college with her prosthetic.
In ballet, you have to move your knees and ankles. After talking to other patients, I felt like I would have the best mobility with a prosthetic. I decided to have my left leg amputated — a hard decision, but not one I regret.
I couldn't walk, let alone dance, for more than a year
Knowing the amputation was coming was so hard to think about, that I often chose not to. I lived the spring of 2020 one day at a time, and when that became too overwhelming I lived one minute, or one second, at a time.
I had the amputation in April 2020. The next day, I stood with the help of a walker. A week later, I started nine more months of chemotherapy.
I did my best to keep my body and mind healthy. I did upper body exercises in my hospital bed, and kept my mind and spirit sharp by watching my peers dance. For more than a year after my diagnosis, I couldn't walk, let alone enter the dance studio.
I teach dance part time, but have a new passion
When I got my prosthetic, I immediately put a ballet shoe on it. Because of chemo, I didn't have hair to pull into a ballerina bun, but I put on a tutu and went into the dance studio. It still felt like home.
This spring, three years after my amputation, I performed a self-choreographed dance solo with the University at Buffalo ballet program, where I had once studied. It was my way of saying goodbye to the dance major, and still demonstrating what I could do as an adaptive dancer.
While I'll never be a professional dancer, I've achieved my other goal. I teach ballet to 4 to 7 year-olds part time. They ask me questions, like how do you put on your socks, and I answer their curiosities. I hope that when they see other people with prosthetics later in life, it will be normalized.
I'll always love dance. Before cancer, I put that first. Now, I know that my life is more fulfilling when I help others: specifically, kids impacted by osteosarcoma. Treatment was so hard for me at 18; it was unbearable to watch three-year-olds going through it.
I plan to work with pediatric patients, because I've learned that while dancing feels good, giving back to children feels even better.