As Noelle Hunter prepared to perform on stage, she was filled with a mix of excitement and nerves. At just 17 years old, and a dancer since the age of 2, the feeling wasn’t alien to her. Despite the adrenaline coursing through her, she focused on her makeup and warmed up alongside her fellow dancers. The auditorium was teeming with an eager audience, and all 14 dancers were buoyant as they took their places on stage.
Once the music began to play, however, Hunter felt something was off. Her balance felt compromised, and she felt disconnected from her body—a disconcerting sensation. Still, she pushed through, intent on nailing the choreography. When it came time for the dancers to drop to the floor, an unsettling blurriness clouded her vision as she descended.
When it was time to rise, Hunter didn’t get up. The audience, unaware of the unfolding situation, assumed it was part of the performance. Her teammates exchanged worried glances; some speculated whether she had been injured, but continued with the routine, uncertain of how to proceed. Eventually, one dancer shouted, “Stop the music!” As chaos ensued, a group rushed to the stage, realizing that Hunter was in cardiac arrest, her heart no longer beating.
An audience member began performing CPR while another quickly fetched the automated external defibrillator (AED). When the AED recommended delivering a shock to restore her heart’s rhythm, the first attempt failed, but the second try proved effective. With a blink, Hunter’s eyes opened to a crowd surrounding her. However, she soon began seizing.
As she was carried backstage, she struggled to breathe and appeared pale. Questions about her recent activities poured in—had she been partying? Did she have anxiety or a panic disorder? Upon arrival at the hospital, a battery of tests was conducted, ultimately identifying her condition as long QT syndrome. This rare genetic disorder disrupts the heart’s electrical system, leading to irregular heartbeats and potentially life-threatening scenarios like the one she’d just faced.
Once diagnosed, her mind raced to the future: “Will I be able to dance again?” she asked her doctor. “I can’t give you an answer yet,” was the difficult response. To manage her condition, Hunter received an implantable cardioverter defibrillator (ICD) for heart monitoring, alongside medication to stabilize her heartbeat.
The recovery journey was far from easy. Sleep eluded her, her ICD incision became infected, and the medication made her dizzy—simple tasks like walking to the bathroom felt daunting. Nonetheless, Hunter harbored a determined spirit, resolved to ensure this setback wouldn’t derail her passion for dance. “I knew I wanted dance to be in my life forever,” she affirmed.
With her doctor’s guidance, she created a careful recovery plan, focusing on the importance of her ICD and self-awareness regarding her body’s signals. After five months, Hunter returned to the dance studio for the first time, initially just stretching to ease back into movement. Each small step forward filled her with joy. “I told myself, ‘This is going to take a while, but you’re going to get back to dance and you’re going to be OK,’” she recounted.
Gradually, Hunter incorporated more movement into her routine—a split one day, leg flutters the next. Before long, she found herself back dancing with her team, even participating in the final performance of her senior year. Her friend and teammate, Chandler Mason, remarked on Hunter’s resilience, saying, “It would’ve been easy for Noelle to let this experience drag her down, but as hard as it’s been, she’s fought hard to hold onto the things she loves.”
Shortly after graduation, Hunter auditioned for HEART Global, an organization dedicated to performing and conducting dance workshops for youth around the world. To her delight, she secured the position, coincidentally becoming a survivor of heart disease in an organization unrelated to heart health.
Now, as a full-time performer and dance educator in Japan, Hunter is committed to nurturing a love for dance among children, hoping to empower them to forge their own relationships with the art form. “Dance helped me keep going through the hardest time in my life,” she said with a sense of fulfillment. “It’s a dream to be able to share it with others.”
