Kacey's Comeback

The early-morning winter air is frigid but that doesn't seem to bother Kacey Ruegsegger. Dressed in a T-shirt, jeans and cowboy boots, the 17-year-old leads her horse out of the barn and into the riding ring. Barely favoring her right arm, the high‑school senior hops onto the horse with expert ease. As on most Saturday mornings, Kacey is right where she wants to be--in the riding ring.

A pretty girl, Kacey has a determined look on her face as she leads her horse through the patterns they both know so well. When the horse makes a mistake, she gently stops him and they repeat the move.

Kacey's riding is a mixture of athletic ability and graceful dance. But confidence and poise are especially important in the kind of riding Kacey does. "You have to look like you're the best," she says. "If you don't think you're going to win, then you won’t.

Kacey will compete in 20 shows around the country this year, although she is also working on a much larger goal--qualifying for the 2000 American Quarter Horse Youth Association World Championship Show, considered the most prestigious venue in the youth equestrian world. This summer, Colorado will send two top qualifying riders to represent the state--Kacey hopes to be one of them.

From the side of the ring, 47-year-old Darcey Ruegsegger, Kacey's mother, watches the pair's every move. A proud smile covers her face. "Kacey has come so far," Darcey says, marveling over her daughter's courage.

Kacey was a junior at Columbine High School last April 20, 1999, when two young gunmen killed 12 students and a teacher, and wounded 21 others at the site. Kacey, who was reading a magazine in the library when the shooting erupted, was among the seriously injured.

When teacher Patti Nielson yelled for everyone to hide, Kacey did as she was told and crawled under a computer desk‑‑as the gunmen walked in. "I immediately began praying," Kacey remembers. "The second those boys walked in you could feel the presence of evil. But I also felt the presence of God and His angels there with me, protecting me. Still, I knew I was going to get shot."

At that same moment, Darcey was waiting at home to have lunch with Kacey. "I decided to make her some cookies," says Darcey, a former legal secretary. "But as I was pulling them out of the oven, I got this sudden horrible feeling that something had happened to Kacey. I looked at the clock, and saw she was late coming home. Something made me run to the TV."

Then Darcey saw the gruesome reality: Kacey's school was under attack. With a sick feeling, Darcey says she "just knew" that her daughter had been hurt. Calling on her strong Christian faith, Darcey immediately fell to her knees to pray.

At the high school, Kacey watched gunmen Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold as they carried out their murderous plan. "I saw one of them drop a trench coat and then shoot a boy," says Kacey. "I covered my ears as they shot him. Then they shot me."

The bullet from the 12-gauge shotgun came from only six feet away. It ripped through Kacey's right shoulder, tore off part of her right thumb and burned the skin on her neck. Kacey says the shooters "had told everyone, 'This is your day to die,' and I believed them."

Kacey recalls falling forward and watching her limp arm hit the floor. "I could see the bone sticking out from my shoulder. My neck was swelling, and it was hard to breathe. An artery in my thumb had been hit, so blood was everywhere."

Once the gunmen left, Kacey called out weakly, "Somebody help me!" Sophomore Craig Scott helped her get up. She held her right arm against her body as the two students fled. Kacey made her way to a nearby lawn, where an off-duty nurse came to her aid. "Are they going to cut my arm off?" the teen asked her stoically.

Meanwhile, Darcey and her sister-in-law, Catherine, were waiting anxiously at home when someone phoned to say Kacey had been shot.

Darcey and husband Greg hurried to the hospital, while Catherine retrieved Kacey's younger siblings, Britney, 15, and Brett, 13, from their private school. "We didn't know if Kacey would still be alive or not," says Darcey, "but if she was dying, we wanted our children to say goodbye."

During Kacey's emergency surgery, grief threatened to consume Darcey. "I sat there, crying out to God," she says.

Those first days after the shootings were a blur for the Ruegseggers. The couple's oldest son, 21-year old Brian, flew in from Kentucky. He spent nights at the hospital to relieve his exhausted parents.

The prognosis for Kacey's shoulder was not good. The blast had blown off the upper third of her right shoulder, as well as the top of her arm and collarbone. Only an artery, nerves and veins kept the arm attached. At first, doctors said there was not much they could do.

To Darcey and Greg, a 46-year-old attorney, this was not an acceptable answer. They were determined to find a way to save her arm. The next day, they learned about Denver's Institute for Limb Preservation. Ross Wilkins, M.D., an orthopedic surgeon, explained that it might be possible to recreate a shoulder and thumb for Kacey using transplanted bone, shoulder joint and tendon from a bone and tissue bank. "The arm bone, from the shoulder down about six inches, was destroyed. There weren't many options," said Dr. Wilkins, who had already done 30 such operations.

Because the shot had missed Kacey's artery and nerves--something her doctors call a miracle— surgery was possible, but there were no guarantees. And they had to act quickly; only a few weeks remained before the tendons would scar.

There was still a possibility of infection, but Dr. Wilkins thought the surgery was Kacey's best option.

Hoping to give Kacey the best chance for full use of her arm, Darcey and Greg decided to pursue the transplant surgery, which was performed a few days later. The four-hour operation was a success. Afterward, Kacey's first question to the doctor was, "When can I ride?" But the prognosis was still unclear and she faced intense physical therapy.

Kacey also had to mend emotionally before competing. And that took some time.

"I was so scared and couldn't sleep alone," Kacey says. "I slept in my parents' room for three months. I would lock all the doors in the house--I still do."

After a while, Kacey bunked with sister Britney. "I'd wait to go to sleep only after Kacey was asleep. That way she could feel safe. She knew that I was looking out for her," says Britney.

"We withdrew from everything," Darcey remembers. "We had to close the door and heal for a while." But nobody forgot the family. The Southern Gables Evangelical Free Church the family belongs to was extremely supportive, bringing meals and encouragement. And people from all over the world wrote with prayers and good wishes. "One woman still writes me every week," says Kacey, who sent out more than 1,200 thank-you cards.

This outpouring of love from near and far did wonders for Kacey's rehabilitation--as did her desire to compete. At each visit to the doctor, Kacey insisted that she would ride again. "On one visit," says Kacey, "I even demonstrated how I would hold the reins!"

Seeing her determination, Dr. Wilkins finally gave her his permission to ride, but only after Kacey confirmed that she understood the risks. The reconstruction could come apart if she fell, he told her, and that would mean more surgery and possible infection.

Kacey knew it would be a hard fight to regain the skills she had lost, but she was ready for it. Just two weeks before the shootings, she had watched her former trainer, 26-year-old Julie Clerihue, die of cancer. "Julie was really sick, but she'd still come to the shows," says Kacey. "Julie didn't let anything beat her. How could I complain after watching her go through that?"

Just three months after the shootings, Kacey was riding and competing again. She won first place in a showmanship event during her first competition back. "I loved it the first time I got back on the horse," Kacey laughs, "but everyone else was terrified!"

Kacey--the young woman who just two days before the shooting had won an important title while competing at one of Colorado's largest shows and had been well on her way to qualifying for the 1999 World Championship Show--was of officially back in the saddle.

”If anything, this tragedy has made her stronger and more competitive," says Chad Evans, who is one of Kacey's trainers. "She has an inner strength. Because she missed last year's show, it makes her want this one even more."

Although the injury set her back, Kacey says it hasn't changed her goals. "I want to place in the top 15 riders in the nation in three events," she says. "Riding is therapy for me. I like the competition and the discipline it requires. I was a shy kid, and riding was something I became good at. I'm a perfectionist and I have to get everything right. Still, I've also learned how to deal with losing, to look at how I failed and know I did my best."

Though the family is grateful for Kacey's recovery, they know she will never be completely healed. In January she underwent surgery in her transplanted thumb because the bone had partially dissolved. Kacey faces several more surgeries and a lifetime of physical therapy. Her recovery has been spectacular, says Dr. Wilkins, though the teen can't raise her arm above her shoulder and someone else must saddle her horse for her. While she has gradually regained most use of her thumb, her shoulder still has a long way to go.

"It's been a difficult year," says Darcey. "As a family, we've been all over the board. I have angry moments when I wonder how anyone could do this to my kid, but I'm exceedingly grateful that she's here. This whole thing has made us more spiritually aware. We've pulled together to get through the bad moments."

But even love can't always keep Kacey safe. Months after the massacre, Kacey is still haunted by thoughts that remind her of the shootings. Once, seeing a boy wearing a trench coat in a convenience store "scared me so bad, I dropped my drink," she says.

"I still have to go to sleep with the TV on at night. If I go to sleep thinking about Columbine, I have nightmares. I'm not angry about Columbine," says Kacey. "It's only when I can't ride or do the things that I used to do, that it upsets me. I'm an independent person and don't like people helping me, so I had to learn to accept that help. My family and trainers have been very supportive."

Competitive riding is a demanding sport, but Kacey insists she's up to the challenge.Now a senior at a private Christian school, where she has many new friends, Kacey balances her time between practice, schoolwork and a busy social life. On the day of competition, Kacey often gets up at 5 A.M. and continues riding until midnight. "Sometimes I just take a chair and sleep in the barn," says Kacey, who will keep riding when she attends college next year.

Says Darcey, "As a mom, at first it was hard to watch her ride again. She had a smile on her face, but I knew the physical difficulties she was having. I was scared she'd hurt herself again, but I'm not afraid anymore. I know the risk is there, but this is her love. She wasn't going to let those boys take this away from her. I admire her courage to accept her challenges each day.