....I'm going to be OK."
I seem to say that a lot. I have had an incredibly extraordinary life. I have done things, met people and been places that most people only dream of. I am blessed with amazing children. I am blessed with a good job and good family. I have friends around me who appreciate me. I have passion for who I am and the talents I was given. But I also have horrible horrible luck. So today, I would like to publicly display a list of the worst things that have happened to me and the horrible timing that has come along with them. OK, maybe not the WORST- that would include loved ones dying, etc...let's just say the unluckiest...No, I have never been in the middle of a war. No I have never lost my house in a natural disaster. No I have never been stranded without food or water for weeks. But I have had some ridiculous adventures that have turned into great stories that are fun to tell while we sit around and drink...
Here, the top ten unluckiest/most poorly timed bullshit that I have had to experience...in descending order...(as of how I feel today, March 29, 2012...my list will probably be different tomorrow)
10. In 1990 I was in a production of South Pacific with a community theatre group. I was practicing "Gonna wash that man..." when I tripped on a chair and broke my foot. This was the same day that I had gotten caught in band chewing gum and got a Saturday school from the most ridiculous, anal retentive, sexually repressed man/band director I had ever met. I couldn't stand this guy. It was also the same day I got into a fight in gym class with a kid who was making fun of my lanky legs. This was also the day that I had to meet with the principal and my parents about how much school I'd missed when she never talked with the nurse that I had had a horrible case of mono and this was the reason. This was NOT a good day. Eventually my foot healed and I luckily got to perform in the show and all was right with the world. Fast forward a month. I am in the last performance of "A Christmas Carol" with the same theatre group, including Carol, the woman I danced next to in South Pacific. We are half way through Act 2. Now with most shows, the last show is always bittersweet. This was no exception. We were a little hyper, a little somber. Carol and I decided to relive our South Pacific glory days. So we started to dance. And then came the part where we kick. It's very easy to do the dance in short khaki shorts and a white t-shirt. In my Act 2 of A Christmas Carol costume? Not so much. I kicked. My foot caught up in my skirt and all 5' 11" of me went flying backwards and landed in a pretzel like shape on the concrete floor. My collar bone was broken. ANd I was on stage in 2 minutes. I got up. I went back stage, in shock. I made my entrance where I was supposed to run into someone "accidentally". He did not know what happened to me backstage so all 6' 2" of him rammed right into me. My collar bone probably broke more. I did the scene. I don't know how but I did the scene. I exited. I laid down on the floor. The paramedics showed up and quietly wheeled their gurney being the audience and came to get me. The rest is an absolute blur. I quit band the next day.
9. I peed my pants in front of my entire second grade class. I didn't want to interrupt the teacher when she was talking to a visiting adult, so I stood there and peed my pants involuntarily. It never occurred to me to just make a break for the girls' room. I didn't want to get in trouble for running out. SO I peed my pants.
8. I was possibly a victim of random gunfire in Chicago. See the "Barney Miller" related post on this blog for details...the worst thing about it is that it may have been some kind of karmic self fulfilling prophecy as I had feared for many years that someone would shoot at me while I was driving. I had nightmares about it, I would fantasize about it as I was driving and several times had to stop my car and calm myself down about it all. And then it happened. To me. Alone.
7. I was finally asked by the big kids to play tag. I was in 4th grade on our family's yearly camping trip with our three best friend families. And when I say camping I mean the dad's would have a contest to see who get rent the biggest, most elaborate RV for the weekend. So it was basically like being on a concert tour in a kick ass bus but without the blow and hookers. I was the youngest of all the kids. Youngest by about 6 years youngest. I was also a weird little kid and had a weird sense of humor. The bigger kids didn't really appreciate it too much so I was usually left to hang out with my mom and dad and watch my mom drink champagne by a camp fire and watch my dad and the other men see who could rip up more $20 bills. Ahhh, the great outdoors...
Anyway, they asked me to play tag. For the first time ever. Flashlight tag. And I got put on a team with Jamie Holtz (yeah I used his real name) who was the second youngest, and his dreamy friend Devin Washer (yes real name). Off all the kids went into the woods to play. I was not allowed to hold the flashlight. And I had to be in the back of our three person line. Because I was a seven foot tall fourth grade girl and God forbid they be seen with THAT. In the dark. (a couple years later at a restaurant door county the same people would give me grief about sitting at dinner and turning blue from a shirt I HAD to have but would end up being a horrible lesson in fabric dyes and why you always listen to the Nepalese tag when it says "Wash before wearing"...but I'm not bitter.)
We hid in the most elusive and natural campground environment we could find to sneak up on my brother's team: THE LAUNDRY BUILDING. I know, really becoming one with the outdoors, right? We stood at the door waiting to spot my brother's team. There they were. "Go!" Jamie yelled as he bolted out the door with the flashlight and Devin close behind. I tried to catch up. I tried to see where they were going. I couldn't see a thing. I couldn't see the trees, I couldn't see the building and I certainly couldn't see the humungous green dumpster with the jagged hinge witting there just waiting for my left eye to come crashing into it. And that's what happened.
*SCREAMS SCREAMING SCREAMER SCREAM*
Imagine this: you are a mother drinking champagne with your best friends around a fire. You're having a grand old time reminiscing about your wild adventures in Hawaii or that time on that cruise you all took together or that lovely wedding so and so's daughter was in when she married that handsome pediatrician when suddenly your 7 foot tall fourth grade daughter comes stumbling out of the Wisconsin woods screaming her head off with her right hand over her left eye and her entire face covered in what you are sure is probably ketchup. You would think that the older kids were playing a prank, right? That's exactly what they thought.
SO the adults just sat there, with blank expressions, champagne glasses in hand. Connie the nurse stands up and comes over to me and removes my hand. "Oh dear- Sandy look at this".
What happened next I do not know. I remember laying in the RV on the kitchen table/extra bed with my mom applying pressure with a wash cloth. I do remember my brother freaking out in the back trying to disassemble the tent that he and his friend had been sleeping in. The tent was thrown into the RV in its totally assembled form by my dad who cleaned up our camp site in about 6 seconds flat. I remember hearing my dad ask someone directions to a hospital. Then I remember a doctor with a German accent. The German accent scared me a bit because all I thought about at that time when I met someone German is my dad whispering in my ear "Don't mention the war" which always made me giggle. Then I felt something roll down my cheek. I was certain my eyeball had fallen out.
*SCREAMS SCREAMING SCREAMER SCREAM*
Nope. It was a tear drop.
I had 4 stitches above my eye and 3 under my eye. And a tetanus shot I am sure. My eyeball was fine thank God. I went to school with huge bandages on the next Monday. They called me S-arrrrrrrr-ah for a little while. And then I had these huge red scars on my face that didn't fade until about 7th grade. My left eyebrow still has a tiny bald spot to remind me that every time I see Jamie Holtz from now until the end of our lives I have to make him feel guilty.
6. My car was stolen the night of my 21st birthday. STOLEN. On my birthday. While I was out in Wicker Park getting hammered. STOLEN. Never had anything else happen to me as far as my car goes, but they chose my 21st birthday to STEAL my car. The only thing worse the having your car stolen, is them finding your car three days later after the thieves had been living in it, then peed in it (did they have a second grader living with them?) and then left it close enough to the Humboldt Park impound lot that I had to go claim it. And keep it. (Insert honorable mention under car stories here: I got a speeding ticket on my way to get a divorce on April 8, 2008. And I was crying so hard when the cop was yelling at me that he called for back up.)
5. In the grand scheme of life, this isn't that bad, but it still pisses me off to no end: December 1993 I had my audition for acceptance into the theatre school at DePaul University. DePaul, in my mind, was my only option for college. I was going to be an acting major there. No other plan in place. So I went and auditioned and felt good about it. 2 weeks later I get my letter in the mail. I WAS ACCEPTED!! Of course, I was alone at home when I got the letter so I sped back to school to show my acting teacher the letter. And then I showed just about everyone else I've ever known (and their cats) the letter. I screamed my victory from the mountain tops! Then a few days later I got another letter which read something like this: "blah blah blah we regret blah blah blah it was a mistake blah blah blah you can come study playwriting though blah blah blah here are some complimentary basketball tickets for your trouble blah blah blah".........I cried for maybe 2 weeks straight. Or 2 hours. But it felt like 2 weeks.
4. This happened to me yesterday...So I have been struggling for a long time to get commercial work. I have always been cast as a character type and never as a normal looking person type. BUT on Monday I was cast in a commercial and I was ridiculously excited. I had every last detail ready to go for the shoot, which is happening as I write this...I have been under a lot of stress lately, I mean even more than usual, so I guess I'm kind of prime for getting sick...but what happened to me when I woke up yesterday morning can only be described as the REAL actor's nightmare. I woke up, got out of bed, dragged a comb across my head...and looked in the mirror. My bottom lip was HUGE and I had some kind of small village of gross growing out of my chin. What in the world? I have never had a fat lip before. Ever. I've never been punched in the face so I look like Jimmy Walker, I've never had an allergic reaction to anything and I certainly have never had some kind of infection on my face. SO I went to my mom's house and showed her. We iced it, we washed it, we tried everything. FInally I went to an aesthetician and explained to her "You need to get rid of this lip thing and whatever else is going on because I AM SHOOTING A COMMERCIAL TOMORROW". She steamed it, she caressed it, she even did some sort of dry ice thing. It looked a bit better. We hoped for the best. I took a nap for 45 minutes. When I woke up I was in terrible shape. I could see my lip under my nose when I looked down. My entire jaw was swollen. And it was getting worse by the minute. I went to the emergency care clinic. They had me sitting in a room by myself of ran hour and a half. And my lip grew and my jaw swelled. I left there in anger. I went to the ER. They took me in right away. Gave me a massive dose of Benadryl, a steroid and put an IV in me. The they determined that I had some kind of weird infection. IN MY FACE. So they put an antibiotic in the IV. And my face didn't go down. It was 8:00 pm. I finally decided with my agent that we had to remove me from the commercial. I. was. and. am. heartbroken. Such a cruel joke. Even as I write this I can only drink through a straw and eat mashed potatoes out of the right side of my face. Karma. I have some really really bad karma.
3. I have had a lot of unhealthy people in my family pass away or get very sick. This motivates me to eat right, to workout 5 times a week, to not smoke, to breathe. Yet I am the ONLY one in my family who has been diagnosed with a genetic mutation called "Factor 5" which means my blood clots eleventh times faster than normal people. I had no idea I had this until this past fall when I got a blood clot in my lower arm. I was put on coumadin for three months. I was taken off of birth control. I was told to be careful. I was told there's nothing I can do about these clots. I was told I could have a pulmonary embolism at any time because of this disorder. And the worst thing, I was no longer allowed to eat green, leafy vegetables. I've been cut off from my routine of massive amounts of salad, spinach, asparagus, broccoli, etc. Anything with Vitamin K (which also includes cranberries, green tea and agave nectar, all of which I live on). This vitamin K nonsense interrupts the coumadin...so I was on coumadin for three months. I abided by all the rules. Then I went to get my final ultrasound to make sure the clot was gone. It was! yay! No...wait. There's now another one in another part of my arm. Of which I had no symptoms. So now I have to take this horrible drug for LIFE. I live everyday with the fear that I have blood clots all over my body and at any moment one could move to my lungs or my brain without notice. AND I can't eat salad. I wonder why I even bother going to the gym and eating well and why I don't smoke. Oh yeah, vanity. Which is probably the thing that will kill me in the end.
2. hands down most painful thing I've ever endured: No, it's not giving birth to an 8 lb 11 oz baby boy or a 9 lb 6 oz baby girl. Nope, it was a staph infection in my spinal column. In 2001(and the day before my birthday...) I hurt my back imitating Molly Shannon's "I"m 50!" character from SNL. I was performing in Tony N Tina's Wedding in Chicago and I was playing a spastic caterer. For some reason, I thought it would be funny to imitate Molly Shannon but take it a bit further. When I said "ANd I can kick", I put my foot up on an audience member's shoulder...while we were both standing up...the next day I was in excruciating pain. I had herniated my three lowest discs in my back. After 3 months of therapy, pain management, shots in my spine and exercises, it didn't get better. I had to have surgery. upon researching the surgery I found that a tiny 1% of people who have it get a staph infection and it will either paralyze or kill the victim. Nah, won't happen to me, I thought. Doc, let's do this!
So I had outpatient back surgery. Was NOT given antibiotics before or after the operation. And was sent on my way to heal. The pain relief was immediate. I could feel my leg again, I could sit for more than three minutes without howling in pain, it was awesome.
10 days later: muscle spasms in my back that made child birth feel like a broken nail. I was stuck in the middle of my bed for 24 hours. My brother carried me to the car and we went to the hospital. Blood everywhere. Screaming agonizing pain. They gave me a muscle relaxer and sent me home. The next day: shaking and shivering. 5 paramedics. Off to the hospital, screaming, vomiting. Immediate MRI, immediate morphine drip. The next week I was in a morphine haze. Unable to move, sure that I would end up paralyzed. The hallucinations were constant and I didn't eat anything but ice chips. I thought the hospital was burning down, I thought there was an intruder in the middle of the night, I thought I was in Hawaii, I thought my family was having Easter Dinner in the hall without me, I thought I was in a camper (kind of like the one in Wisconsin...). I had to have another surgery. The abcesses were attacking my hips- if I hadn't gotten in there when I did I probably would have lost most of my muscle...another week after that I was still in the hospital on the antibiotics and the morphine. When I did go home I had a walker. And a cane. And a pick line in my left arm where I had to give myself injections every 8 hours for the next 8 weeks. I had to have home health care. I was a MESS.
I will never put my foot on anyone's shoulder again. At least not standing up...
1. And the number one stupid, horrible, worst thing that has happened to me....
I dropped my iPhone in water this morning and the ear piece won't work....I know, I know....stop crying for me. You're embarrassing yourself.
BUT, and say it with me..."If this is the worst thing that happens to me today I'm going to be OK."
