CAMANO ISLAND — Nichelle Humphrey is a fiercely determined 18-year-old who laughs easily and loves to dance.
She speaks matter-of-factly about a bone disease called congenital pseudarthrosis. She has a prosthetic leg that starts at her left knee. Her 25th major surgery is coming up this fall.
Nichelle, a senior at Stanwood High School, was 14 months old when her parents learned that their precocious toddler would have to fight to do things other kids don’t think twice about.
“She was walking down the stairs and did a small jump to the next step and the bone snapped,” mom Lori Havercroft said.
Nichelle has a disease in her left tibia, the shin bone. At first, Havercroft struggled to pronounce pseudarthrosis. Now she knows how to say it and can recite the definition: “It’s genetically programmed to break without provocation, and it’s genetically programmed not to heal.”
The diagnosis hasn’t slowed Nichelle, who dances on a hip-hop team with nine other girls. She’s also done cheerleading and played volleyball.
Her ambition and drive are no surprise to those who know her best, say her parents and instructors.
After a major surgery when Nichelle was 2, doctors said she wouldn’t be able to get up for a while. The toddler used a wall to haul herself upright, Havercroft said.
“We knew then that she would do anything she set her mind to,” she said.
Nichelle wants to study American Sign Language and linguistics in college. She’s been signing for several years and hopes to become an interpreter.
Her plan is to start online classes through Everett Community College in September. She has a surgery scheduled in October to amputate more of her leg. After 24 operations, she knows the routine. “Maybe it will stop at 25,” she said.
Her biggest surgery was nearly a decade ago.
After trying a variety of procedures that left her with rings and wires in her bone and a five-inch lift on her left shoe, doctors told Nichelle’s family they had a choice.
“It was either amputation or more surgeries,” Nichelle said.
She was 10 years old. She told her parents that she wanted to make the decision. So she did.
Surgeons took off the front of her foot and gave her a prosthetic that covers her lower leg to stabilize the bones.
Nichelle remembers waking up after the surgery. She lifted her right leg slightly, then her left. “I thought, ‘Wow, this one is so much lighter.’”
Physical therapy was grueling. The skin on her heel was ultra-sensitive, and she practiced for two months to master bending her knee.
Now she dances every week, dropping, spinning, stomping and jumping with fearless energy to the pounding beat of Jordin Sparks’ “I am Woman” and Little Mix’s “Salute.”
She’s been dancing for eight years, six of them at Camano Dance Studio.
“At first, I changed choreography” to accommodate her, said Sarah Cooper, Nichelle’s hip-hop instructor. “The longer I’ve had her, the less I have to do that. She can adapt it herself, so it’s made her and the whole class stronger.”
Two weeks ago, Camano Dance Academy’s advanced hip-hop team competed at the Dupree Dance Convention during the national tour’s Seattle stop. They were recognized as one of the top teams in their division. As captain, Nichelle accepted the award.
The judges did critique her — in one pose, her left foot was cocked up while everyone else’s was flat on the floor. With her prosthetic, that’s not something Nichelle can control.
“But they had no idea she has a prosthetic,” said Terah Partridge director of the Camano Dance Studio. “I still don’t think they know.”
It’s a point of pride for Nichelle’s instructors and teammates.
“It’s great because she’s judged the same as everyone else,” Cooper said. “As Nichelle’s gotten older, she’s gotten more confident in who she is and what she does.”
People look at her differently when they can see her legs, Nichelle said. She’s been barred from rides at amusement parks, and waterslides are the bane of her existence. She gets told no, which is frustrating. She also gets told she’s a legal liability, which is even worse.
“I didn’t used to wear shorts or skirts or anything that would show my prosthetic because I hated the way people would treat me, or how they would look at me,” Nichelle said. “We’re not as fragile as we look. I want to experience everything, too.”
One dance studio, no longer in business, turned Nichelle away because they didn’t know how to work around her prosthetic.
She’s learned not to take no for an answer. Even when her own body seems to work against her, Nichelle fights back.
Because of the bone disease and prosthetic, her left knee dislocates frequently, whether she’s doing a stunt at practice or walking down a hill.
“My worst enemies are gravel and grass,” she said.
Last year, her knee dislocated during a performance. She curled up on the stage, screamed and cried for a minute, she said. Then she did what she does best.
“I got up and finished the dance.”
Kari Bray: 425-339-3439; kbray@heraldnet.com.
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