Our second performance of "Fiddler on the Roof" was discernibly better than our first. For one thing, the fiddler didn't almost fall off the roof. (I forgot to include that in the last post.0 There weren't any pregnant pauses while actors mentally groped for lines. The energy level was higher, and everyone seemed more confident.
One rather unfortunate happening was when Tevye, in a rush to get on stage, stepped on my ankle. Tevye is a large man, and he was wearing heavy boots. It was just before intermission, so we had the whole wedding scene to get through with no real time to check in out immediately. I have a relatively high tolerance for pain and knew before even looking at it that I've suffered much worse injuries, so I made it onstage and tried not to hobble. I must have pulled it off OK, because most of the cast was unaware until intermission that anything was wrong. I hope the audience was equally oblivious.
Someone called my dad, and when i got offstage, he was there. (I know; he doesn't come across as father of the Year by not wanting to catchall eleven of my performances, but basketball or something else kept him ar home.) He poked and prodded my ankle for a few minutes and pronounced that nothing was broken. If this blog were not written in relative anonymity, he would probably kill me for writing this, but he gave me a shot of local anaesthetic to get me through the show, as I still had the major dance sequence. The shot worked; the dance went, if anything, better than the previous night.
My dad waited around until the show was over. Instead of taking me home, we went directly to the emergency room. "I thought you said that definitely nothing is broken," I told him.
"You can't ever know that without an X-ray," he told me.
"Then why did you say that?" I asked.
"Because it would have bothered you more if I hadn't said it," he replied. "I knew, even if there is a fracture, that it wouldn't permanently cripple you to finish the show. But you need to remember one thing. If anyone at the ER asks you who gave you the lidocaine shot. I don't know if they'd report me to the medical board or to CPS, but just say some doctor you don't even know from the audience gave it to you. Stick to the story."
As it ended up, no one even asked.
As I've mentioned before, there are good and bad points to having a father and many other relatives be doctors. Las night was good. We walked pretty much directly in and out of the ER, with a quick stop in radiology.. The X-ray confirmed my dad's suspicion that nothing was fractured, but my left foot looks like someone beat it with a sledgehammer. I'm spending the day with my foot iced and elevated. i'll get another shot right before I go on, and one right before the dance sequence. After that, there's a week off from school and a ten-day break before our next performance. If I get through tonight, everything will be good. My dad says he's not risking any sort of whitney Houston/Anna Nicole Smith/Michael Jackson incident, but for the performance only, he'll be fairly liberal with pharmaceuticals. I obviously can't have any substance that's mind-altering, but as far as pure pain control, if it's the best thing available approved by the FDA, i can have it.
So now I've missed two cast parties and will probably miss a third one. my mom offered to have the cast and crew here, but they really can't have minors drinking at their home. Jared, my friend who isn't my boyfriend because I'm too young for that, flew out from utah to see the play. He suggested that my parents but food for the cast, and they can eat here and then, after they're full, they can go somewhere else to get drunk. even though it's kind of pointless gesture, I think I'll take my parents up on the offer. It sucks to miss too many celebrations, even if the one I'm allowed to attend is only the pre-party before the real party.Either way, it was very kind of my parents to offer.
Now, in regard to the campus newspaper's review yesterday . . . I mentioned that they can be brutal, and the reviewer was at times. He was particularly hard on the fiddler for almost falling off the roof.. He was especially unfavorably toward Golde, the mother of the featured family. Perchik, the young rebel who married my sister in the play, Hodel, was criticized heavily as well. The girls who play my two older sisters and I received favorable reviews. The reviewer wrote that in "Matchmaker," we had what sounded like a legitimate sibling blend, which is difficult to achieve with non-related people. Hodel has the meatiest role of the three of us, and received the most praise, as she deserved. (Remember that she was a last-minute fill-in. Her predecessor would have been crucified in print.) The reviewer touched upon my age and youthful appearance for the part, but then went on to say that the character of Chava would probably have been only about fourteen, and I don't look that much younger than fourteen. He never mentioned that I'm really seventeen, but then, maybe it's not really pertinent. Then he said that a girl much larger than I would not have pulled off the ballet sequence nearly so beautifully. That's something of a laugh, as the only dance instruction I've had is the minimum that high-level gymnasts have to take. Still, a compliment is a compliment, and I'll take it in whatever form it comes.
So now I'm stuck in a recliner with my ice-packed foot elevated on pillows. It's nice that I have my friend who happens to be a boy to entertain me. I'll be on crutches for a week or so -- I still have the ones I painted pink that I used because of my injuries two years ago -- but for today, I'm only up for absolute essentials. After tonight's performance, I can be on crutches as much as I feel like it. I'm praying that the drugs work as well tonight as they did last night.
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