There’s so much in Seattle that I’ll always remember—being made so welcome, and the joy and jubilation we managed to give the city and its people, twice, with those championships. I will go to my death bed with beautiful memories, I had such a great time over there. America was awesome, it was hard, really hard, but it made me who I am, and I made some amazing friends over there, my American family. I had remarkable, memorable games, but honestly, the friendships are my best memories.
It would have been nice to win a couple more championships for Seattle, but I did get injured a lot, my body just couldn’t handle the toll, the training and flying. In America, we would play, we would fly, we would train again and again, there were no breaks. Flying also probably contributed to my body’s inability to recover, it wasn’t just the emotional anxiety stuff, it was also the physical impact that flying had on me, the swelling in my feet and legs. Towards the end I wouldn’t be able to walk off planes without a noticeable limp.
The day after the ceremony I had a haemorrhage. I was meant to fly back home and couldn’t. I was at Abby Bishop’s apartment, she was back playing with Seattle, and Suzy Batkovic was at the apartment as well, she’d flown in that day and was exhausted. The three of us were talking, and I excused myself to go to the bathroom and thought ‘Holy shit I’m bleeding’, and because of my miscarriage in 2013 I was terrified that I was about to miscarry again. Abby and Suzy took me straight to the hospital. We arrived and they did some tests and then an ultrasound, and I was so relieved to see the baby’s little heart still beating. They put me on bed rest, saying there was a 50:50 chance that I’d lose my baby. I decided I wanted to fly back after a couple of days because I wanted to be around my doctors and my mum and dad if I miscarried again.
As soon as I arrived back in Albury I was treated by the specialist here, and then went to stay with Mum and Dad down the South Coast. I had continual spotting for another nine weeks and didn’t know if I was going to miscarry or not.
With the Rio Olympics coming up, Channel 7 had asked if I would be available to do a commentary for the women’s basketball. I’d agreed prior to becoming pregnant and now that I was, I didn’t want to travel to Brazil because of the Zika virus. Zika is spread by mosquitoes and can affect the foetus in pregnant women, causing birth defects including the horrible condition known as microcephaly, where the baby is born with a smaller than normal head, the brain doesn’t develop properly and the child has ongoing mental and physical developmental problems. There was no way I was going over there pregnant, and thankfully Channel 7 agreed that I could broadcast from their Sydney studio.
Mum and I drove up to Sydney from the South Coast before the Olympics started, in preparation for my first commentary gig. I was driving through morning traffic on the highway through Milton and was taking a bend in the road. Someone had parked a closed-off trailer on the corner, so there was no vision through it. I was doing the speed limit through morning traffic, and Mum and I were just talking, and I thought I was at a safe distance from the car in front, I looked at Mum, and next thing I know I was up the backside of the car in front. What I didn’t know or see in that split second was that the car ahead had slowed down, I hadn’t seen it through the trailer, and I ran into them. It was scary, and because of everything that was going on in my body, I was in a bit of a state.
A woman a few cars ahead of the car I rear-ended got out of her car and called me quite a few names. I was in shock, I wasn’t even sure what was going on. By the time I realised what she’d said to me, she’d gone, otherwise knowing me I probably would have responded. My car wouldn’t start, I couldn’t move it off the road. Everyone was getting mad because it’s a busy highway, right through the middle of town, people were winding down their windows saying, ‘Get your car off the road!’, but it wouldn’t move, I didn’t know what to do. Mum got out in the middle of the highway and started to direct traffic—looking back on it, it’s funny, but I know she was scared. I managed to call Dad and say ‘Dad there’s been an accident’, and then hung up the phone, poor Dad. I really had a pregnancy brain, I have honestly never felt that ditzy before in my life, I forgot everything, it was crazy.
The car I’d hit ran on LPG and had a gas leak, so the police had to shut off the entire Princes Highway. The police were really lovely, when they found out I was pregnant they made sure I was okay. Clearly the accident was my fault, because I ran up the back of someone else, but apparently accidents happened a lot on that part of the highway. As fate would have it, we were across the road from the Milton–Ulladulla hospital, so after the police carried out drug and alcohol tests on me, which were mandatory, we then walked over to the hospital to get checked out.
Mum had been holding a laptop computer while we’d been driving, and when we had the accident it flew up, hit the windscreen and came down on her leg, so they checked her out. I had whiplash from the seatbelt, but my baby was okay. I felt like such an idiot, it was the first car accident I’d had, and I don’t want to ever have another.
Dad drove straight up to Ulladulla and was relieved to find that we were both alright. My parents are unreal, they truly are, I have the best parents. Mum didn’t leave my side for two weeks after the accident, and she was with me while I commentated for Channel 7.
I’d never commentated before, and at the start I felt uncomfortable, it was tricky even just knowing when to talk and say things. I found myself sitting there, watching and analysing the game—but in my own head, not vocalising my thoughts. Instead of watching and speaking, I was watching and making noises of annoyance, disappointment, approval, and no one could see me of course, they could just hear these noises as the game was televised. Thankfully there were two other veteran commentators covering the women’s basketball who were really good, they spoke a lot, and initially I just chimed in. I was finding it difficult to vocalise what I was seeing and thinking, but what I needed to realise earlier was that people wanted to hear what I had to say, I was so afraid that what I was saying would be wrong. It was Mum who set me straight. She’d certainly noticed my lack of commentary. Mum told me to think about who I am, think about the fact that I knew more about this game than anyone there, so just speak! I did find it difficult, though, when there was a terrible play, because a lot of those girls competing were my friends. You can’t sort of say ‘That was terrible,’ because they’re your mates, so that was hard, but I guess down the track I won’t know the girls as well, and it will be easier.
Being a public figure and recognisable, people want to be with you when you’re out and about, they want to talk with you, there’s an expectation. I think it’s a familiarity people have with you, even though you don’t know them, know who they are or what they want. I was walking around the Myer store with Mum on one occasion, I can’t remember if I was still on crutches, but I was still recovering from the knee replacement, was off the painkillers and in a lot of pain—and I was pregnant. Mum was in the change rooms trying on some clothes and I was hobbling around Myer trying to find a shirt to wear to an upcoming function, I was just wearing tracksuit pants and a T-shirt, my hair was messy, and this woman came straight up to me with her kids. I hadn’t really taken any notice of her, I was just wandering around. I don’t know what she said, but I remember being taken completely by surprise at how blunt and forward she seemed, coming right into my personal space. I felt really vulnerable, and I know I didn’t go out of my way to talk with her. I think I smiled, said ‘Hi’, and kept going. She walked off and went into the same set of change rooms that Mum was in.
Mum came out and demanded to know what ever had I said to that woman. I was shocked. Mum expects me to be polite to everyone all the time. I wasn’t rude to the woman, but I didn’t give her the time she must have wanted. Apparently, she’d gone into the cubicle next to Mum and went to town about me to her kids. When Mum told me, I was stunned. I saw the woman come out of the change room and I wanted to say something, explain what it was like to have a complete stranger come up and be like that, be that familiar and forthright. I didn’t know the woman from a bar of soap and she expected me to talk with her and her children like we were old friends. I didn’t try to explain, I left it, I don’t think she would have comprehended what it’s like from my side. There’s no point in trying to fight those battles.
I get that expectation a lot, and usually manage it, but I know I didn’t handle it well that time. I think I was in so much pain I didn’t want to deal with it, but I also know that I wasn’t overtly rude. That sort of situation has occurred a few times, and I think it’s because normally I’m fairly oblivious to things happening around me—as I said earlier, I’m so used to people staring due to my height that I just go about my business, and it usually works for me.
People in Albury are more respectful of my personal space. I can walk down the street and know people are looking at me, but I don’t really get that sort of intrusion, most people understand. I walk around Albury with pride, all of my family and friends are there, it really is my safe place and I love it.