During a performance of
Bye Bye Birdie at the Grand, I was conked in the head by a huge set of double-doors on a rolling wagon, and ended up being taken to the hospital in an ambulance, strapped to a gurney.
Opening night of
Oklahoma, I stepped on my skirt while running, fell and -- again -- conked my head on the cement stage, ending up with a concussion (I was able to finish the show, thanks to a young man who held me up during the song "Oklahoma").
Opening day of
Tom Sawyer, during the final run-though rehearsal, I turned a glass candle the wrong way, and the bulb shattered in my hand, cutting my thumb pretty badly. Did I mention I was wearing a white dress at the time?
I had a sinus infection for most of run of
Little Women at CenterPoint Legacy.
Luckily, my latest theater-related maiming didn't happen during a performance of
Robin Hood: Legend of the Sherwood Bandit.
Unluckily, it happened right
after the preview performance, and I was not recovered enough the next day to perform.
What happened?!! you ask.
The actors were asked to help set up the props and sound equipment before the show and then put them away afterwards. I was happy to do so to spare the stage manager and light technician hours of extra work. That's what community theater is all about -- helping out where ever you can!
Well, I was backstage in a poorly-lit area, moving a box that the sound equipment rested on. I could see the black lawn v the greyish sidewalk, and I remember thinking, "Oh, I should make sure not to fall on that curb." Two seconds later, that's exactly what I did! My left foot caught on the curb in just the wrong way, and got stuck so that when I fell, I fell right on my foot... with the box on top of me.
Now, if you know me at all, you know I'm a bit of a klutz. These things happen to me -- possibly because I think they're hilarious -- and I'm usually really good at falling without getting hurt. This time, my immediate reaction was "Oh, Megan. You silly!" And then.... then I realized that my ankle hurt. A LOT.
The stage manager came rushing over to check on me, and I calmly and with some surprise and annoyance said something along the lines of, "Oh. Oh, no. That hurts!" People kept asking if I was ok, and I said "I'm probably in shock 'cause I'm not freaking out" (they agreed). My ankle swelled up almost immediately. I was more worried about making everyone else upset and inconveniencing everyone. Our costumer is a nurse, and she came over with an ace bandage, and someone else appeared with a bag of ice. The stage manager and costumer both agreed it was probably just a bad sprain, because I would have been unable to move my foot if it were broken. Everyone was so concerned and wanted to help. One kid found my box of stuff, my music director drove me to my car in a parking lot a block away, and my carpool buddy drove me first to the costumer's house (to pick up some supplies) and then to our rendezvous point. I assured him (and everyone else) that I could get myself home. Like I said, it was my left ankle, and my car is an automatic. I was annoyed that there was construction blocking my normal freeway entrance, which forced me on a 20 minute detour, but I drove slowly and managed to make it home all right.
It wasn't until I reached my apartment building that I realized I somehow had to lug my laptop, my box of theater stuff, and myself up three flights of stairs without being able to walk.
That is when I started to cry.
I must have been a pretty pathetic figure crawling up those stairs, moving the box and laptop a few stairs above me at a time. I made it to the top, though. I tried to put aside all stress of injury and wondering whether I'd be able to perform the next day aside. I needed to sleep.
I woke up at 7 a.m., unable to fall back asleep. I sent a few e-mails, including one to work declaring a "sick day", and at about 8 a.m. I called my mom to tell her what had happened, and left a message for my director letting her know that it didn't hurt as much. Actually, thanks to the salves the costumer gave me, there was hardly any swelling at all anymore.
It was opening night of my show, and I wanted to perform if I could. I had quite a few friends and family planning to come that night, not to mention the reviewer for
Utah Theater Bloggers -- also a friend of mine! I spent the day doing everything I could to get my ankle well. I called a nurse practitioner friend to take a look, and she agreed it was probably just a sprain. She said if it was still really bad in a few days I should get it X-rayed. My mom was a saint. I think she spent the whole day running errands for me. She bought me meds, and lunch, and a huge boot, and a less-intense sleeve-thing, and I don't remember what else.
I didn't say anything to anyone else about the sprain, because I wasn't sure if I'd get to perform. If yes, I didn't want people thinking about my ankle. I'm still haunted by people coming up to me after that Oklahoma performance and saying "That looked really bad; are you ok?" instead of "Wow! You worked so hard and are so talented and cute!" I couldn't bear for that to happen again if I could avoid it. So, I quietly kept my mouth shut, and plugged the show on Facebook and
here on my blog.
At 4 p.m., I met the director, music director, and producer at the Clearfield Arts Building. On the drive up, I felt good. I felt positive. I knew that I had done absolutely everything I could, and that regardless of whether I did the show, I wasn't going to be upset. We all agreed that whether I performed that night needed to be a group decision. I walked up and down stairs and ran a bit in the boot. It wasn't too painful with the huge boot -- going without was unthinkable -- but while wearing that boot, it was very obvious that I had been injured, and it might prove to be distracting. I didn't want to mess up the show for anyone. The other three felt that if I took it easy on opening, my foot would be better healed to perform the rest of the shows (I can't tell you how grateful I was that I wasn't being replaced altogether). Yeah, I'd worked my butt off and I loved my character and the play, and I hated giving away a performance (we only had 5 scheduled)... but it was almost a relief to say I really wouldn't mind if the director filled in for me that night.
Once we made the decision, we all started working towards getting Liz ready. I walked her through my blocking (thank goodness she made up the choreography, and I lurked in a lot of the scenes), the music director ran through the music (again, thank goodness I sang the melody!), and the costumer took in my costume a tiny bit.
The cast was so supportive. Every single person asked how I felt, and expressed sadness I couldn't perform with them that night. The producer said I was "classy" to put the show first. It probably would have been more difficult for me emotionally, if I weren't so used to being double-cast; I'm pretty used to watching other people play my roles :-) I said the cast prayer that night. I love those people. I wanted the show to be good and nothing else to go wrong.
 |
Liz (the director/my understudy), Kellie (Maid Marian),
and Elinor (Sophie) on opening night |
The upside was that I got to watch the performance opening night! (That's the downside to single-casting: you don't ever get to watch the show.) I can't tell you how proud I was of everyone. I knew that the show was good, and that everyone was terrific in their roles, but getting to see what's going on while I lurk in the back, or dance in the front, or languish backstage, and hear Alan's part in the songs (that guy owned the stage), and actually see the cool arrow effect (our view during the tournament was blocked by the coach -- we relied entirely on sound to time our lines), and laugh at Much's brilliance, and cheer along with the audience as Robin and King Richard saved the day... it was a terrific experience. There were funny little gaffs here and there - things people unfamiliar with the show probably wouldn't notice and that I don't think happened in any of the subsequent performances. Liz was right when she said the difference between good community theater, and "community" community theater is a great ensemble; ours definitely was. After watching, I could honestly tell people that it was a quality show, and didn't feel a bit guilty asking them to trek all the way to Clearfield to see it. Sure, I'm biased, but that doesn't mean I was wrong!
The reviewer,
Andrea, liked it, too.
Here's a link to her very kind and thoughtful review. I was thrilled that my character of Rowena was mentioned, and tried not to be sad Andrea didn't see me in the role. Oh, well. Thanks for letting me sit with you, Andrea!
There is a bit of a happy ending, in that I did get to perform in all of the rest of the shows. Liz changed some of the choreography and blocking so I wouldn't have to move quite so much, and my nurse practitioner friend taught me how to wrap it with sports tape the way athletes do. The limp was less painful each night. Some claimed the limp was pretty obvious (especially during the second act, when I did a lot of running), others kindly said it was hardly noticeable. One friend who came on closing -- who magically hadn't heard about the accident -- didn't realize from my performance that I was injured, and when I posted a photo of my boot a few days later assumed the accident must have happened after closing!
I AM a little annoyed that even now -- two weeks later -- I still have to tell people that I see almost every day what has happened. I sent an e-mail while I was out to everyone at work explaining how I'd sprained my ankle, and when I returned they asked me to tell them the story again. Even today, someone asked me to tell the story. At this point, I'm tempted to let people make up their own reasons. "Was it a skiing accident?" "Maybe." Oh, wait, isn't this July?
As of now, I'm off the boot, and just wearing a black sleeve-y thing to help give my ankle some support. I'm doing stretching and strengthening exercises, and the ankle seems better every day. It might take another week or so to heal fully, but it's getting there.
After the injury, pretty much everyone who wanted to wish me luck on the show said, "
Don't break a leg!"
I'm happy to report that I didn't! I am very grateful. It could have been so much worse!
