Jenna K.

In April 2023, I packed my bags for what was supposed to be the trip of a lifetime, The Cheerleading Worlds in Florida with my mom. This wasn’t just any trip. It was my second time competing at Worlds, something most cheerleaders only dream of. I had trained for years, poured my heart into this sport, and here I was, about to step onto the biggest stage in the world again.

At 18 years old, I was relatively healthy, well, as healthy as someone with a chronic illness and a compromised immune system could be. I had never experienced a health crisis like the one I was about to endure, and honestly, I didn’t see it coming.

The moment we landed in Florida, I felt amazing. No sickness, no warning signs, just pure excitement. The sun was shining, the energy was high, and I was living my dream. Sure, I had a few little rashes at the airport, but I brushed them off as heat rash or stress because, duh, I had just survived multiple flight delays from Nova Scotia, and I was beyond stressed about making it on time.

As the trip went on, I was thriving. I practiced, hung out with my team, and soaked in the Florida sun but then, the day before I competed, something felt off.

I was exhausted. Not the “Oh, I need a little power nap” kind of tired, but the “Why do my legs feel like lead, and why can’t I keep my eyes open?” kind of tired. I had planned a shopping trip before practice because duh, shopping is a must in Florida, but instead, I crashed in the hotel room for hours.

Again, I brushed it off. Jet lag. Excitement. Maybe I just overdid it in the sun.

I refused to believe anything was wrong.

Then came the bellyache.

On the morning of day 2 of competition, I woke up with this annoying stomach pain. It wasn’t excruciating, just uncomfortable but hello, I was about to compete on THE WORLDS MAT in front of 10,000 people, with millions watching online. I had worked my entire life for this moment.

So, I did what any stubborn, glitter covered, adrenaline-fueled cheerleader would do, I ignored it.

I threw on my uniform, laced up my shoes, and held my head high.

No stomach ache was going to ruin this day for me.

The second I stepped onto that blue mat, everything else faded away. The nerves, the excitement, the roaring crowd, I was in my element. We hit our routine, we gave it everything, and then we waited for awards.

As we stood there, holding hands, hearts pounding, the announcer’s voice echoed through the arena.

“And your 2023 World Champions are…”

TEAM CANADA.

Cue instant tears.

I was sobbing, screaming, hugging my teammates, completely overwhelmed by the moment. We had done it again.

It was supposed to be one of the happiest moments of my life and in a way, it still is. But the memory is forever tied to what happened next because as I stood there, basking in our victory, I realized my stomach pain had become unbearable.

I felt dizzy.
I was sweating.
My hands were shaking.
I was seconds away from throwing up on the World stage.

I barely made it backstage before I started violently puking into a garbage can.

Not exactly the glamorous post-win glow I had imagined.

After awards, my coaches wanted to take a million photos, cheer coaches and their obsession with team pictures, it’s a whole thing but I couldn’t stand anymore.

My sweet teammates checked on me, and the Team Canada doctor helped me get out of the venue. I drank some water and told myself, Okay, I’ll sleep this off. It’s probably just excitement, dehydration, maybe some bad food.

We went back to the hotel, and I passed out for hours.

When I woke up? It was worse.

My stomach felt like someone was stabbing me with a thousand knives. But I was determined to push through.

I forced myself to go to the Florida Mall because I had dreamed about shopping there for YEARS. Bad idea. I was miserable..

I was up all night, running to the bathroom, crying in pain. I kept trying to take hot baths, hoping it would help, but nothing worked.

The next morning was supposed to be our Magic Kingdom day and if you know me, you know that Disney is my happy place.

So, despite feeling like actual death, I dragged myself to Magic Kingdom.

By 3 PM, I couldn’t do it anymore. The heat was too much, I could barely stand, and I was desperate for a bathroom at all times. We left early, went back to the hotel, and I sobbed.

I was devastated. I missed Magic Kingdom. My mom, being the sweetest human ever, bought me a Stitch plushie to cheer me up, but I was heartbroken.

And the worst part? It wasn’t over.

That night, my pain hit a new level of awful. I told my mom, “I can’t even get in the bathtub. That’s when she knew something was seriously wrong.

She called our travel insurance, and they told us to go to urgent care.

We went in, and within minutes, the nurse’s face went pale.

She checked my vitals and ran out of the room. When she came back, she had three other nurses and a doctor.

“We need to call an ambulance. Your blood pressure is 70/40.”

Translation: I was basically NOT ALIVE.

At the hospital, I was rushed to the ICU. Diagnosis? Septic shock.

The cause? Double pneumonia and a UTI that had turned septic.

Within hours, my heart started failing.
My kidneys started failing.
My lungs filled with fluid.
I was put on a breathing machine, hooked up to countless IVs, and doctors told my mom to call home and update my family, just in case.

Today, I am almost two years post-septic. It still feels surreal to say that.

I am beyond grateful to be here, but the experience changed me forever.

I had to retire from cheerleading after Worlds, but I’ve found new passions: pageantry, hiking, volunteering, and going to the gym. I still dream about going back to Disney, and I will get my perfect Magic Kingdom day.

Most importantly? I’ve become an advocate for sepsis awareness.

If I had waited even a few more hours to go to the hospital, I wouldn’t be here today.

So, if you take anything from my story, let it be this:
🚨 Sepsis is a medical emergency.
⏳ Act fast. It could save your life.

And to everyone who supported me—including my amazing friend’s mom, who started a GoFundMe to help cover our extended stay and medical costs—thank you from the bottom of my heart.

I am here. I am thriving. And I am so, so grateful. 💖