My Battle with AMPS: Getting Back to Kuchipudi and Finding My Strength

I’m Kundhana Motaparthy, a 13-year-old ninth-grader at Damascus High School, Montgomery County, MD, and a passionate Indian Classical Dance, Kuchipudi dancer. Kuchipudi, an Indian classical dance known for its graceful footwork and expressive storytelling, has been my life since I was five. I began training in India and continued at Pranava Natyam Dance Academy in the USA after moving here at eight. I’ve practiced intricate steps, like those in Krishna Shabdam, and performed at cultural festivals where the stage, lights, and the jingle of my ghungroo bells to Carnatic music feel like home. At Hallie Wells Middle School, I excelled in cultural arts, English, and science, dreaming of dancing at major festivals. My family—mom Prasanthi Velaga, dad Vamsi Motaparthy, and younger sister Nandhana—are my biggest supporters, cheering at every show. But on November 5, 2024, my world changed when AMPS threatened to steal my dance.

It all started on one windy fall evening during a practice for a challenging routine on a brass plate. My legs ached, and I thought I’d overdone it, but the pain grew into a constant burning, like my legs were on fire, even at rest. No matter how many pain killers I take, the pain just seemed to grow and grow. Simple things, like wearing my daily outfits, sleeping, or even standing—felt like stabs or punches. Exhaustion hit hard, as if I’d run a marathon just getting out of bed. On Thanksgiving, I couldn’t even enjoy a family party, overwhelmed by pain. Spending time with my favorite people, at my favorite time of the year, was ruined because of this pain. That night, at 3:38 AM, a stabbing sensation woke me, and until January 2025, the agony was relentless. AMPS made dancing, my happy place, nearly impossible, shaking my confidence and joy.

For four months, my family and I chased for answers, visiting doctors at D.C. Children’s Hospital. Tests—blood work, X-rays, an MRI of my ankles—came back normal, leaving us frustrated and hopeless. One doctor blamed “overuse” from dance, another suggested the pain was “in my head,” making me doubt myself despite the real agony. My mom, Prasanthi, was not having it. She researched tirelessly, finding parents on Facebook discussing AMPS, which led us to a pediatric rheumatologist. She examined my hypersensitive legs and diagnosed AMPS—a glitch where nerves amplify pain signals, often triggered by intense activity or stress, causing muscle pain from low oxygen flow. The diagnosis brought relief, but the treatment—no pills, just intensive therapy—felt daunting. She recommended that I see a physical therapist, occupational therapist and a psychologist.

At a pain clinic, I worked with a physical therapist, Dr. Megan, and a psychologist, Dr Nupur. Daily physical therapy—walking, stair-climbing, and yoga-like exercises—was grueling, initially worsening the pain as my nerves recalibrated. I cried and cried hoping this agony stops.The psychologist helped me uncover stress from school, friend drama, and family issues, teaching me deep breathing and visualization like picturing my dance studio. Talking to my grandparents about AMPS and connecting with other doctors online kept me hopeful. My family was incredible—Mom and Dad attended therapy, and Nandhana’s silly faces made me laugh through tough days when pain flared in my hips or fatigue kept me from school.

After six months, I started healing. The burning eased, and I could touch my skin without wincing. Day by day I can feel myself coming back. By June 2025, I was back to normal, returning to dance class to perform a piece for Lord Krishna, my ghungroo ringing like before—it felt like flying. I have never felt this happy in so long. Kuchipudi’s focus on breath and balance became therapy, and studies show Indian classical dance boosts mental and physical health. AMPS taught me resilience and advocacy, making me stronger. In a way, AMPS had been both a curse and a blessing in disguise.

AMPS affects 0.4–1.6% of the U.S. population, especially kids, but it’s hard to diagnose since tests don’t show it. To kids with unexplained pain, parents, or dance teachers: don’t know who to ask for help. 60-80% of children and families, who are affected by AMPS, are tirelessly running for answers to cure the pain . I’m sharing my story through AMP Up Awareness to support kids who feel alone and to ensure them to know AMPS isn’t the end. I’m dancing again, and I want everyone to know: you can find your rhythm, too.