Kathy Stilwell

MS Shackles Stilwell But It Doesn't Take Away Her Determination

June 28, 1987|By Brian Schmitz of the Sentinel Staff

Playful chatter and a devilish laugh usually preceded Kathy Stilwell's entrance into a room or a ballpark. Now the strange, droll hum of a machine announces her arrival.

She steered a little battery-powered scooter into her mother's kitchen the other day in Pine Hills to greet a guest.

The scooter has become standard equipment in her life, serving as her legs now that multiple sclerosis has imprisoned more and more of her body.

Her high-voltage smile quickly disarmed a visitor of any forboding fear or sadness he had after seeing her for the first time since she played in 1974 with the Orlando Rebels, a women's fast-pitch softball team.

''I do all right, except I hit the walls once in a while,'' she said, putting the scooter into gear.

MS has all but confined her to the room where she played as a child. It has clouded her eyesight, numbed her legs. It has done everything but rob her of her dogged spirit and sense of humor.

''I asked her if she wanted me to bring some food over the other night,'' said Snooki Mulder, Kathy's former teammate with the Rebels. ''She said, 'Nah, I might get it all over you.' ''

Snooki knows Kathy's tremendous appetite for food and fun. ''She always used to trip over the foul lines to make us laugh,'' Snooki said. ''She was a showman sometimes.'' Kathy once broke away from pregame introductions at a tournament to set off a Roman candle near second base.

The last place anybody ever expected to find Kathy Stilwell at 32 was in a hospital bed, unable to move much more than her hands. Lying there in her room, Kathy fingered a necklace. ''On this necklace it says, 'Live, love, laugh.' That's exactly how I feel.''

A portrait of a pair of worn-out gym shoes hangs over her bed. Five trophies -- one representing each sport she played -- sit on the top shelf of her desk.

''I gave away or threw out the rest. I couldn't tell you how many. Had so many, my old roommate and I used to dry out our underwear on them.

''The trophies, the ribbons . . . they're nice. But life is all about doing your best. All my life I always had to be the best. The best softball player. The best speller. The best artist. We're here to be our best, not the best.

''Kids have to remember that so they don't get discouraged, or alter their minds and bodies with drugs when they don't become the best.

''It seemed I always was going fast and furious. The MS made me stop and see that I wasn't the center of the universe. I want to help people, contribute. Not take, take. I had it all. But I had it all wrong.''

One of the finest all-around athletes -- male or female -- to grace Central Florida, Kathy played basketball and volleyball for the University of Central Florida. She played on the tennis team at Valencia Community College -- on the men's team.

Valencia had no women's squad, but that didn't stop Kathy from earning the No. 3 singles spot with the men.

At 19 she played center field and shortstop for the Rebels, displaying the kind of hustle Pete Rose would admire. ''One of finest players I ever had,'' former Rebels coach Marge Ricker said. ''She had natural instincts. You didn't have to teach her much.''

Kathy left the Rebels to play on a women's professional fast-pitch team, the Connecticut Falcons, for four years.

In 1982 Ricker asked her to rejoin the Rebels for their world tournament in Taiwan. Ricker, however, noticed something different about Kathy. ''Her eyes seemed to be affected,'' Ricker said. ''She didn't have the hand-eye coordination. She wasn't the same player I remembered.''

Kathy didn't tell Ricker she had been diagnosed in Gainesville as having MS. ''I thought she might not let me go and play,'' Kathy said.

Typical Stilwell. Once she broke her hand on a sprinkler head while diving to make a catch. She didn't say a word to Ricker, played the whole game and even hit a single. At the hospital she tried to fool the doctors by putting her good hand under the X-ray machine. Luckily, they became wise to her.

Gradually, MS, the disease that shatters the central nervous system, reduced her to walking with a cane then to sitting in a motorized wheelchair. It forced her to leave a job last year she loved -- teaching elementary students at Mollie Rae. She was honored as ''Teacher of the Year.'' ''Teaching gave me the natural high that sports did. It filled the void,'' she said.

MS has yet to curb her determination. She wants to write children's books, hoping to send wayward youths a message: ''Say yes to life.''

Has Kathy accepted MS? Not a chance. She has written to numerous hospitals and clinics, offering herself as ''a guinea pig'' for any experiment that may unlock the mystery of MS.

If it were not for an incredible family, the ordeal would be overwhelming. ''They have so much love and honesty it makes me cringe. My mother is the Rock of Gibraltar,'' Kathy said of Nancy Stilwell.

She has had to be. John Stilwell had a heart attack two weeks ago after playing tennis. ''He had four cardiac arrests. Died four times,'' Kathy said. ''They performed miracles on my dad -- I think they'll find a cure for MS in my lifetime. Either that or God will say, 'Kathy, you're healed.' ''

Until then Kathy will live by the five words printed on the back of one of her father's T-shirts: ''GO WITH WHAT YOU GOT.''

Kathy Stilwell Race Lends Perspective

September 11, 1992|By Anita Cechowski of The Sentinel Staff

Friends from as far as Hawaii, California and Oklahoma are coming to visit Kathy Stilwell on Saturday. It's that time of year. In its sixth running, the Kathy Stilwell Lake to Lake 5K provides her the rare opportunity to see friends with whom she has lost touch. And an opportunity to make new friends.

''People read about (this race) and come out and run for her,'' said Bud Seaman, longtime friend and the driving force behind the inception of this event. ''One year might have been their first, and then they bring a friend. I didn't think it would grow to be this big.''

Stilwell, who graduated from Evans High School in 1973, was diagnosed with chronic progressive multiple sclerosis in 1982. It was a tough blow for a woman who had competed in sports through high school and college before going on to play softball with the Orlando Rebels and professionally with the Connecticut Falcons.

In an effort to help offset her medical expenses Seaman conceived the idea for the race. The first year, Seaman and Jon Hughes, with whom she worked, thought they’d get no more than 400 runners. Some 750 came out. They ran out of race numbers. This year, an estimated 1,200 runners/walkers/well-wishers are expected to come out for Stilwell.

Stilwell may be bedridden most of the time, but her smile and spirit are very much alive. “When they come to see me, I know they’re coming because they love me,” Stilwell said. “And I love them, so much it’s not funny.”

Seaman said that through the year’s Stilwell’s presence at the race has shown people they should be grateful. “She will never run, never walk, again,” Seaman said. “She teaches people not to take life and body and health for granted.”