Meet Natasha Veruschka -- a New York City belly dancer and sword swallower. For her, the ancient art has proved therapeutic since the passing of her husband, Terrance Shands-Galloway, in November.
The couple had been married for 22 years. He was also her manager throughout her 10-year career.
"It was over the bloody top," Veruschka said.
During that trip, Shands-Galloway contracted a parasite. According to Veruschka, he felt great pains in his side by the time they returned to New York City, but did not rush to the hospital.
When he finally did check himself in, he stayed for more than two weeks before losing his battle with the bug at the age of 54.
"It was horrible. After he died I lay on his body for an hour and a half," Veruschka told AOL News. "I had a show that night but I couldn't get out of it. I was under contract. But I knew if I didn't get up on that bloody stage, I would never, never, never again perform."
Now, performing is what keeps her going -- despite an enhanced level of danger.
"It's easy for me to think about my husband and slip," she said. "And one slip and I'm dead."
On Saturday afternoon she participated in the fifth annual World Sword Swallower's Day at the Ripley's Believe It or Not Times Square Odditorium in New York City. The day was established to raise awareness of the contributions sword swallowers have made in the fields of medicine and science and to correct myths that the stunt is faked.
"I loved it," she said afterward. "I came out today for this, it was wonderful. It makes me know I'm alive. One of the doctors said I'm dying of grief. They wanted to hospitalize me and I said I'll go in on Monday after this event."
Veruschka, who only stands 5 feet 3 inches, has dropped to 94 pounds during her mourning period and said doctors wanted to treat her for a lack of blood. "I'm totally anemic," she said, as she held her cold hand out for me to touch.
Veruschka was joined by five other sword swallowers at the Times Square location and 16 more in eight other Ripley's Odditoriums around the world.
Penney's mother died in December from complications with diabetes. Like Veruschka, sword swallowing has helped him through the grieving process.
"To swallow a sword, you have to clear your mind. It's like a form of meditation," Penney said. "It helps calm nerves."
His unique ability was a source of pride for his mother, despite her initial fears for his safety.
"My mother liked bragging about me, telling people about me, telling them I was a sword swallower," he said. "She was proud of that."
Matt "Molotov" Bouvier, who swallowed a sword at Ripley's in San Francisco, has also found the art to be therapeutic following the loss of his wife, Felicity, three years ago.
The couple ran a Wild West show, featuring trick roping and knife throwing (Felicity was his target girl), and performed sword swallowing at clubs in between gigs.
Tragedy struck one day while visiting a friend in Texas and shooting guns in his backyard. The friend had an automatic gun with a faulty pin. It jumped out of his hand, fired and killed Felicity instantly (the jury acquitted him).
Bouvier's mentor, veteran showman Chris Christ, helped him get back on his feet and back on the stage.
"Sword swallowing is a solid act I have, it's an automatic thing I have," Bouvier said. "It's good during a time of grief to have something automatic that I can plug into and forget about it for a while."
Bouvier swallows swords nightly in San Francisco at burlesque shows and for corporate parties.
"You've got to focus on getting that sword in the right place. And when you see the looks on people's faces, sometimes that makes it all worthwhile, at least for the moment," Meyer added.
Veruschka has been thriving on that feeling six times a week and keeps Shands-Galloway close to her heart at every show, literally. She wears his ashes in a necklace.
"Every time I'm on stage I dance for him. Every single performance is for him," Veruschka said. "This is me. He would've killed me if I would've stopped."
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