Day’s till Doctor’s Appointment: 24

I think I made a horrible, horrible mistake today at the doctor. I got there promptly at 10:30 as I had been instructed to do. As with all first visits to a doctor, there is 45 minutes of paper work that must be processed before you are even allowed to sit down, let alone, actually see a physician. So I filled out all the paperwork, had 14 copies made of my insurance card, promised they could repossess my roommate if I didn’t pay my bill, and then and only then, was I told to go down the hall to the waiting room of my doctor.

And so I get there and give the receptionist person my piece of paper and take a seat. Unlike any New York City doctor experience ever, I was called back in about four minutes. I was whisked away to Exam Room F. There I was frisked by the assistant and told that the doctor would be right with me. And so I sat with the door closed wondering why they close the door. Years ago I had a doctor that I told that I didn’t like the door closed while I was waiting. From that time on he and his staff make a point to leave it open for me. And so I sat, with the door closed and waited.

Finally after about three minutes there was a knock on the door. Another thing I’m not sure about. I’m at an orthopedist foot and ankle specialist. Why does she need to knock. I’m not going to be naked. Anyway, I digress. She sweeps into the room and what would you know she’s an absolutely beautiful black woman with a great sense of humor and she’s actually nice. (Not something I’ve experienced too much of in NYC. The nice part). And so she asks me what I did, how it feels, and then asks for my x-ray. She takes a look at it and then proceeds to show me the break. I’ve looked at the x-rays a million times and couldn’t see anything. So she points out the break and then sits down to tell me the news.

First the area that is broken is kind of fragile. Because of the nature of the break it’s possible that the ankle isn’t healing properly. This particular break has a tendency to separate as it heals thus requiring surgery. I would need to have new x-rays to determine how it was healing and what the next steps were.

And so I traipsed back down the hall to the main reception desk. (This was more typical NYC, the girls were full of attitude and clearly didn’t want to be bothered with my broken ankle). At the desk I was signed in so that I could see the x-ray receptionist. Again, very quickly I was whisked away to be papered in. I filled out 12 more forms and there were about 22 copies of my insurance card made. Then I was given one of those beeper things that you get when you check in at The Olive Garden so that you’ll know when it’s your turn. You know the beeper that vibrates, and buzzes, and lights up to alert you that your table is ready.  I don’t know if I mentioned that it’s restaurant/orthopedist combination. So I sat down with my beeper and waited. I should also mention that I’m lugging my backpack around today because I brought a shoe just in case my cast was taken off and I could walk home. So sitting and standing and sitting and standing wasn’t as much fun as it may seem.

So after about two minutes I’m paged and I go back to the x-ray waiting room. And once again I have a seat. I sit there for maybe five minutes when a beautiful, tall man comes out to do my x-rays. He has me follow him to the x-ray room. It takes maybe about fifteen minutes to get the x-rays done and then I’m on way back to the doctor’s reception area. My favorite part of getting the x-rays was having the beautiful, tall man put the lead shield over my groin. I wanted his other lead shield but that’s another story.

So I go back to the doctors waiting room, check in again, and am immediately taken back to a room. Within minutes the doctor comes back and sits down to tell me what’s up.

If anyone wants to know what my foot looks like…

The break is visible most clearly in the top photo.  If you look at the left side of the foot where the ankle and leg bone meet there is a gap.  That’s not the break it’s supposed to be there.  But if you look just diagonally up to the left of that gap there is a triangular shaped shadow.  The upper right edge of the shadow is the fracture.  I’m now an expert on foot x-rays.  It’s amazing what a tall, beautiful x-ray guy can teach you in five minutes.

Back to my story.  She has already looked at the x-rays by the time she comes in.  So she sits down and says…The break is healing perfectly.  The bones haven’t moved at all and the fact that the break is no longer a clear image on the x-ray means it’s healing just as it should.  So…what do we do from here.  Before she left the first time I told her that I was leaving to go out of town on Tuesday and wouldn’t be back in NYC till August 1st.  So she was presented with a problem.

The problem is that I need to stay off my foot, on crutches, with the ankle splinted for a minimum of three more weeks.  The question was whether to leave the cast on or put on a removable boot.  I opted for the boot and there my friend is the mistake.  The fucking thing is huge.  And weighs a lot more than the cast.  And isn’t as comfortable.  And is going to be impossible to sleep in, because yes, I have to wear it to bed for the next three weeks.  I can only take it off to shower and then it must remain on so that I don’t damage the ankle before it heals fully.  Why, oh why didn’t I let them leave the cast on.  Unfortunately it’s too late now, so I’m stuck with this big black boot thing.

And so I am not allowed to put any weight on my foot till June 9th, which is a little more than three weeks.  Before I start walking on it, I have to go to an orthopedist and get new x-rays and make sure there are no problems.  And then when I start walking I have to take it easy.  I can’t do jumping jacks, or run a marathon.  Slow easy movement.  She told me that the soonest she would release me to go back to waiting tables is July 15.  Which is great because I won’t be back until August 1st and that keeps me on disability (I don’t get paid) but it lets me stay in the payroll system at work so that I don’t lose my insurance or seniority.

And so I have three more weeks on crutches, unable to do much moving around at all.

UGH!

Chuck, can you bring me a sandwich and a Diet Coke?

Orthopedist Appointment at 10:45….

I sent my snarky email. And I got a response at 6:09 tonight. I received an attempt at the drawings of the shows. I say an attempt because they really don’t contain much more information than I already knew. There are no dimensions. No labels. No lineset schedule. No trims. Not much of anything. I’m going to bed right after I post this but tomorrow I’m going to make a list of everything that I don’t know and I’m going to put that into an email and send it off. At the rate I’m going I’ll have all the information sometime around August 15th. Of course the shows will have closed by then.

I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow about my ankle. Everyone please say a little prayer that they take this five pound wool sock off my leg tomorrow. I’m just about over it. I want to be able to walk again. I want to stop having to ask for help. I want to do all the errands I need to do before I leave on Tuesday. I want to go for a walk. I want to go to the real movies. I want to do a lot of things that I haven’t been able to do for the past three weeks. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very thankful the break wasn’t more serious than it was. I’m grateful that I don’t have to have surgery or that it’s not permanent. But at the same time. I’m done. Let’s cut the cast off and be done with it.

Next week I start my trip. Many of you know where I’m going. I haven’t made a secret of it. However, last summer someone found my blog that knew the artistic director of the theatre and the shows that I was doing. Not only that, he was friends with him. Whoops. I know I have to be careful about those things but sometimes you live in a bubble that you really are anonymous. So this year I’m going to be a little different. You’ll see what I mean next week. I’m going to take you on a little journey that everyone should enjoy. Just remember to pack lightly and bring lots of Diet Coke. And perhaps a beer or two.

Countdown to Doctor — 4 days.

Today was a much better day.  I realized today what the problem has been when I’ve been so miserable.

First I don’t sleep well.

On Friday night I couldn’t sleep at all.  I turned off the light at around 3:00 a.m.  At 6:30 I was still waiting to fall asleep.  Finally I said what the fuck and got up.  I was still sitting at my computer when my roommate got up around 7:30 or so.  I still wasn’t sleepy.  We got comfortable in the living room and chatted for an hour or so.  At around 8:30 or so I finally gave up and went back to bed.  I probably fell asleep around 9:00 a.m.  And slept soundly till around 1:30.  I got a phone call that I had to take, which required me to get out of bed and send an email.  I immediately went back to bed and fell asleep, and what seemed like minutes later some sort of political parade went down my street.  And this continued for I think 12 hours.  I kept waking up and it was still going on.  I finally got up around 6:00 p.m.,  and I was anything but rested.  And I started my day tired at 6:00 p.m.

And second, I don’t shower.  It’s such a pain in my ass to get in the shower/bath.  I have to get the foot condom on, and hobble to the shower.  Undressing is it’s own challenge because I have trouble getting my jeans/pants off and on over my cast.  And then the fun part.  Getting into the tub/shower.  I have to sit on the toilet and then put my my good foot in the shower.  Then I have to hoist myself into the tub without putting any weight on my broken ankle.  This is made more difficult because our tub is shorter than a normal tub and the part against the wall doesn’t have an edge it’s flat with the tile.  So getting in without falling is a bit of a trick.  The first time I tried this I slipped, and landed on the broken ankle and spent the next five minutes sitting on the side of the tub with my ankle throbbing.  Since then I’ve done this with major trepidation and thus I don’t do it everyday.

And so when I’m tired and not showered I end up cranky as hell.  Which makes me miserable.  And then I’m unable to find the good in anything, and I convince myself that I’m going to be stuck in this cast for the rest of my life.

Today was a great day.  I got a great night’s sleep.  I woke up early –for me. (11:00 a.m.).  I had coffee.  I showered.  I talked to friends on the phone.  And I enjoyed my day.  One of the highlights of the day was the number of people who called and wanted to get together this week.  I have three friends coming over for lunch/beer tomorrow.  I have another friend coming over tomorrow afternoon/night.  I have friends from work coming over Wednesday night.  I have a doctor’s appointment on Thursday and I’m trying to get an appointment with my head doctor for the same day.  I have to go back work on Thurday to discuss when I’m coming back to work. (August 1).  And then I’m meeting a friend from work for dinner Thursday night.  Suddenly my week doesn’t feel  as constricting as it did.  I just have to get through the next four days and hope that this fucking cast comes off then.

And the best thing that happened today…my roommate made dinner.  It was pasta with sauteed vegetables and garlic bread.  It was the best meal I’ve had in two weeks.  It wasn’t Chinese and it wasn’t from the diner.  It was a real meal, not eaten out of a plastic container and it was great.  It definitely an improvement over the past two weeks.

Count down to Doctor — 5 days

I’m going bat shit crazy.  I haven’t been out of my apartment in 11 days.  I don’t know how much longer I can take this.  I feel like Jack Nicholson in The Shining.

My roommate’s going to come home one day and find me typing on my keyboard over and over again…

All Work And No Play Makes Jack A Dull Boy.

And then a couple of days later, I’ll start seeing little girls at the end of the hall.  (Well if we had a hall).

And then I’ll try to kill him with an axe.  (I just typed ex.  I’m going to kill him with one of my ex-boyfriends).

And then I’ll freeze to death outside in the maze — if it’s the movie.

If it’s the book, the apartment will blow up, because I haven’t checked the boiler in a week.

Either way the pain and suffering will be over.

All kidding aside,  It’s getting a little old.  It wouldn’t be so bad if I actually lived in a neighborhood where there are things to do.  But there are no coffee shops.  No bookstores.  No movies.  No restaurants.  There absolutely no places I want to go in my neighborhood.  And it’s such a pain to navigate the subway, the stairs, etc. on crutches that it’s just not worth it.  And thus I’ve been here.  For 11 days.  Without going out.  Eating the same food everyday.  Being miserable.  And if I have to watch one more minute of TV or look at one more website I’m going to scream.  AAAAAHHHHH!!!!!

I keep telling myself that it’s only till Thurday.  I have an appointment on Thursday with the orthopedist and I”m praying that he takes this fucking thing off my foot.  And even if it has to stay on, I want him to put a new one on.  Let me take this one off and wash my leg and then put a clean one on.  I just want to walk again.

And this is why I think my trip to the midwest is going to happend a little sooner than I though.  The problem with NYC is that it’s a pedestrian city.  You walk everywhere.  And if you don’t walk, you take a cab where you need to go.  Which gets expensive.  The other problem here is that I live on the northern tip on Manhattan.  Which is about three states from midtown.  You need a passport to get here.  So it’s hard to convince any of my friends to venture up to see me.  For them to get here from Brooklyn or Queens is more than an hour.  So I see no one, I go no where, and I’m here all day everyday by myself.  And what about my roommate you ask?  He’s here some.  But he has a job, and a social life, and errands and stuff so it’s not like I can chain in to the chair and make him sit here with me.  Thus my stir craziness.  And my need to get the ax out and do some damage.  So the thing is, if I go on to OK then I at least will be around other people.  And I’ll have people to drive me places like, coffee shops, movies, bookstores, and restaurants.  And I’ll have people to watch TV (once again, why is this capitalized?) and I won’t go so bat shit crazy.  So I’m considering doing this.  I’m going to call on Monday to find out how much it will cost to change the ticket.  In the meantime…

Everyone say a little prayer that this fucking cast comes off on Thursday.

Great Big Condoms…

So I’ll try and be more positive today.

I said I’ll try.

My foot is still broken.  I hate it.  I wish it weren’t.  It is.  There you go the extent of my complaining.

Here is a picture of my foot condom as I’ve begun to call it.

Kind of sexy don’t you think.  It’s this big blue rubber thing that I put over my cast and then use a little ball to suck out all the air.  It creates a vacuum seal, making the thing waterproof.  As I said, kind of sexy. Of course it smells like a great big regular condom which is not one of my favorite smells.  Of course if it offered the same pleasure a regular one did, I might not mind so much.

See not much complaining.

A short post.

Have a great week all.

AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

I’ve tried to think all day of something interesting to write. I’m sure you don’t want to hear about how I slept until 3:00 p.m. today because for the life of me I couldn’t think of a reason to get out of bed. I’m sure you don’t want to hear about how I moved from the bed to the couch. I’m sure you don’t want to hear that my foot hurt worse today than it did when I first broke it. You probably don’t want to hear that I watched about a million hours of TV once I moved to the couch. And you probably don’t want to hear that it’s after midnight and I have no idea what I’m doing awake. Yeap. No idea.

I think I may throw myself out my third floor window if I don’t get this cast off soon. I’m terrified that when I go to the doctor in two weeks they are going to say that it has to stay on for three more weeks. At that point I Will throw myself out the window. It’s the most annoying thing I’ve ever experienced. Thank god I’m not totally incapacitated. I’d hate it if I really were stuck in bed. I remember being in the hospital when my appendix blew up and that I was bored to death. But the morphine really made the difference. I don’t suppose anyone out there could send some to me. Or Vicoden. Or Percoset. (Did I spell those correctly). Instead I guess I’ll just have to eat Chinese and try not to lose my mind.

Just think boys and girls you have two more weeks of this. By then all two of my readers will have moved on to better pastures.

Perhaps I should spend my day doing this tomorrow:

Day 1 of Complete Boredom

I’m losing my mind.  I’ve only been home for one day and I’m going crazy.  My ankle has ached all day and so I’m trying to stay off of it.  Which means that I basically end up on the couch all day watching TV.  Today I have watched about 12 hours of HGTV, 15 Hours of Law & Order (2 SVU, 1 CI), American Idol, 9 hours of CNN, and an hour of NY1.  And I’m about to fall over from boredom.  And I have about three more weeks of this.  I don’t know how I’m going to make it.  And trust me there are a million things I could be doing, but when I’m bored it almost renders me unable to do anything.

Tomorrow is my first day out in the city.  I have an appointment at my head doctor.  At least now I have a reason to be depressed.  I’ll let you know tomorrow what he says.  He’s really a good guy.  I called him to cancel my appointment since I won’t be able to pay him since I have no income this month.  He told me to go on and come in and we would worry about the money later.  I’m not sure every doctor would have said this.

After my doctor’s appointment I’m going to stop by work.  I want to go in and see everyone and want to make sure they believe me about the foot.  I’m thinking the cast should do it.  I called today to try and process the disability thing so that I’m not taken out of the computer at work, which means that I would lose my health insurance.  Losing my insurance at this point would be a VERY bad thing.

I’m terribly afraid these posts are going to start being very boring.  I can only write about so much TV, so much sitting on the sofa, so much sleeping late.  I’ll have to ponder what I can write about.

HOME!!!!

I’m beat and I haven’t done a single damn thing today.

I never got to sleep last night. I finished writing the post you read today around 3:45 a.m. My ride to the airport showed up at 4:05 a.m. I was just putting my shoe on when she arrived. I gathered up my belongings and by gather up I mean she took a deep breath and lugged my bag out to the car. And then we were on the way. I could have fallen asleep immediately but I thought it would be rude to sleep while she drove. So we chatted. It was a nice drive. In no time at all we were at the airport.

The thing that was worrying us was how she would get my bag to the ticket counter since I couldn’t carry it and she couldn’t leave the car parked at the curb. When we got there it wasn’t that bad. She pulled up to the curb. She helped me out and then just lugged my bag inside. There was no one waiting so she dropped it and the counter and gave me a hug and ran back to her car. As soon as I turned around, the woman behind the counter had processed my boarding pass, asked to see my ID and then said to have a seat since the wheel chair was there. The lady with the wheel chair was great. She was too funny and too friendly.

First stop security.

I’ve flown a million times since 9/11, with the increased security. I’ve never had a problem getting through. I’ve never had my bags searched. I’ve never set off the metal detectors. But wouldn’t you know, as I hopped through on one leg today, the machine beeped. “I’ll need male assistance for search.” UGH!!! It’s not that I mind, it’s just that I minded today. I’m not allowed to sit down. I’m not allowed to have my crutches. I am balanced on one foot waiting to be moved into the security area to be “patted” down. Of course while I’m standing there another guy next to me sets off the alarm and practically pushed me down so that he could go first. Finally Mr. Security Guy comes over to process us. Needless to say, Mr. Pushy got processed first. I stood balanced on one leg for almost 20 minutes till it was my turn.

I hopped into the security area, terrified that I was going to loose my balance and land on my broken ankle. They kept asking if I needed a cane, but a cane is not crutches. I was allowed to sit down finally. But only for a second. The first thing they asked me to do was to stand up, stretch out my arms and stand there while they ran the wand over my body. And of course it found nothing. It never beeped, it never made any noise at all. But I had to stand there at least 10 minutes while the ran the wand everywhere. And then he was finished. Next I got patted down. And it’s my opinion that if I have to be patted down I should at least get a boy that’s cute. I’m just saying. So I get patted down and finally after balancing on one foot for 45 minutes I get to sit back down in the wheel chair, put on my shoe and start toward the gate.

As I said, wheel chair lady was sweet. She love my toenails. She commented that they matched my eyes. She took me to three stores to find one that sold Diet Coke. Diet Pepsi would just NOT do. Then she dropped me at the restroom. And then pushed me to the gate. I asked on the last leg of the trip whether I was supposed to tip her or not. I had never been wheeled through an airport before. She responded by saying that it was entirely up to me. I gave her ten bucks.

And now that I was at the gate it was time to sit and wait. The flight had been delayed thirty minutes because of weather in NYC. While I was sitting there the gate agent came over to check on me and offered to change my seat to one in the front of the plane. I told him I didn’t care as long as it was an aisle. And an aisle it was. Not long after that we were boarded and on our way.

The rest of the trip was fairly uneventful. We landed and after a few minutes a not so nice lady arrived to wheel me to baggage claim. When we got there my driver was waiting for me. Within about 15 minutes or so, I was in the car on my way to my apartment. Of course the part that I had been dreading was still in front of me. I’m a large guy and bouncing up two flights of stairs is NOT fun. And as I suspected it was not. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the driver had not been in a hurry to drop off my bag and leave. So I hopped as fast as I could. Of course I missed the top step and almost fell backwards which in and of itself would have been hysterical, don’t you think.

So I’m home, I’m tired. I’m a little grumpy. So I’m going to go sleep in my own bed.

Day 18 In The Land of Corn…Day Three and Closing of the Show…Day 4 of the Cast…and 4 more hours till I’m home.

As I start typing this it’s 2:48 a.m.  It’s my last day/evening in Iowa.  Unless I don’t make it to Des Moines to the airport of if by some reason the plane doesn’t take off, I should be home in about six hours.  My flight lands in New York at 9:35, and with any luck I should be in my apartment by 10:30 or so.  Of course when I actually walk through  the door depends on how long it takes to get to the third floor on crutches.  I just got off the phone with airline to let them know that I would need a wheel chair in NYC.  I’m not doing so bad with the crutches, but if I don’t have to walk, I’m not going to.

For the most part I’m starting to be acclimated to the foot.  Of course every once in a while I forget that it’s broken and bang it on something, or put more weight on it than I should.  I end up regretting that for the next several hours.  Last night I almost fell off the stage and landed on my foot.  Tonight getting out of the bathtub I slipped and put too much weight on it.  I end up propping it up for a couple of hours afterward and popping the Tylenol-3.  It dulls the pain pretty well, but makes me a bit loopy.  Hopefully, when I get to NYC I can become a recluse and just hang out at home.  Of course there’s a gathering of students from grad school tomorrow night that I would love to go to, but I don’t think that I’m up to it.  Which sucks because it would be nice to see everyone and let them buy me beers since I’m injured.  At least I think they would buy me beers.

So the show closed today.  I wasn’t sad, and I don’t think I’ll miss it.  Sometimes you work on shows that you become very close to and you are sad when you leave them, or when the close.  I think the show here was beautiful and everyone liked my work.  But I wasn’t attached to it the way I sometimes am.  I do look forward to getting the photographs of the show and there are videos as well.  I’m hoping to have my professional resume updated soon, since I can’t really do much else.  I haven’t updated it in a year so it’s about time I got to it.

After the show there was a round of thanks.  A couple of the students sincerely came up to me and offered thanks.  One girl in particular was extremely gracious.  However, for the most part they just filed out of the theatre with out even acknowledging me.  The “dude’ who conveniently missed his own tech and was late the next day with neither an apology or an excuse didn’t even bother to approach me.  He’s either entirely self-centered or terribly ashamed of his behavior.  Either way it’s completely unacceptable for him to behave that way.  Whether he wants to admit it or not, my design added the final element to his choreography and made it complete.  Without my work, the entire concept would have been lost.  And I’m not patting myself on the back.  His entire piece was about playing with light and shadow and it’s effect on the space.  It’s hard to deal with light and shadow without a lighting designer.  Or at least I think so.  If someone else can figure out how to do it, perhaps they can let me know.

So the show was over, and the artistic staff all gathered in the back to say our goodbyes.  That part was actually kind of sad.  I love the people that I work with here, and they make doing my job effortless.  I’m going to have to pick up something for the TD from NYC and send it to him when I get home.  I just don’t know what that will be.  If you have any ideas let me know.

After the show, all of the people from my house went home to hang out.  We were there about 30 minutes before we left to go get burgers from the local steakhouse.  I’ve never wished I had my camera more.  The place  looked like it hadn’t had a face lift since 1972.  And even then it would have been poorly decorated.  The walls were concrete.  There was  barn wood paneling in the entry way.  The tables were probably old in 1952 from the way they rocked back and forth and the brown formica covering on them.  There was fresh bouquets of flowers on each table.  And by fresh I mean they were bought at the Dollar Store at least 10 years ago and hadn’t been washed or dusted since.  There was a fake fireplace against the wall in the non-smoking part of the restaurant with a mantel and lovely fake blue flowers in vases.  The wall above it sported a nifty wooden clock that was way to small for the space it was taking up, and next to it were two sconces that looked like they were straight out of Home Interiors.  (I was going to put a link to their website but you have to register to use it so never mind).  The bathroom was my favorite part.  It was a huge room made of cinder blocks that were painted red.  There was a stall in one corner that barely took up an space.  On the wall that was about 25 feet long there were two urinals placed right next to each other.  With no divider with nothing else on the wall.  I was reminded of a porn movie from the 80’s where two guys met in the restroom and ended up fucking on the floor next to the urinal.  With the size of this restroom you could have had sex with the entire New England Patriots football team and still had enough room for a tupperware party.  The waitress was wonderful.  She was a no nonsense kind of gal.   No pleasantries.  No hello.  No thank yous.   It was clearly a what do you want, I’ll bring it to you kind of establishment.  As I said I’m pissed as hell that I didn’t bring my camera.

On the way home we stopped at the evil store Wal-Mart to get toe-nail polish.  It was decided that since the polish from my pedicure was peeling off that I should repaint my nails a very smart color in honor of my cast.  Especially since everyone would be seeing my toes now.  I sent them all in with the request that the polish not be purple.  They came out with a very stylish blue.  It was glossy and the color matches my eyes.  It was just the thing.

The only other thing I asked for was two 20 oz. bottles of Diet Coke so I didn’t have to stop this morning to get one for the hour + ride to the airport.  I didn’t see them put them in the car and I didn’t see them until two minutes ago.  They got two 2 liter bottles of Diet Coke.  How the fuck am I supposed to drink a 2-liter bottle in the car.  Let alone two?  Do you really need a Ph.D. to figure this out.  I’m just saying.

Once we were home, I spent an hour packing.  It should have taken about 12 minutes, but when you only have one foot it makes things a little difficult.  I would have to hop to one side of the room and get things.  And then to the other side of the room to get other things.  And then I would have to stop and rest because I’m just to old and fat to be hopping around the room.  And of course at least twice I stepped down on my foot sending little shards of pain through my ankle.  Eventually it was done and I called down for someone to get my bag.

Next step.  Bathe.

Cleaning myself has become a chore.  I can’t shower so I have to take a bath.  I can’t get my foot wet so I have to use the foot condom.  It takes forever to get my pants off.  And  then there’s the issue of getting into the tub without breaking my other ankle and without further damaging the one that’s already broken.  In all it takes about 45 minutes start to finish.  Which is great if you are relaxing with a bottle of wine and a candle.  Not so much if not.  So I spent a good deal of time getting clean to day.

Then it was time to do the nails.

First step…take off the old polish.

Next step add the polish.

And the finished product.

Ignore that second toe.  I damaged the nail years ago running.  It’s a condition known as runner’s toe and causes the toenail to become black and sometimes fall off.  Since that happened it’s never been normal since.  And well today when I clipping my toenails in preparation of the painting the entire nail came off.  Of course it has to be the foot with the cast so everyone can see it.  But what’s a girl to do.  Que Sera, Sera

Day 17 In The Land of Corn (One More To Go)…Day 2 of Performance…Day 3 of the Cast…30 Day’s Till I Leave for the Land of Tornadoes

Okay, so I know I promised you pictures of the gay pride parade.  Unfortunately, I blinked and missed it.  However, there was a parade here today.  In my small little Iowan town.  Organized by the students of the school I’m designing at.  I so wanted pictures to post.  But I’m sure the parade was started by

Followed closely by

But alas I missed it.  I’ve searched the web high and low to find photos and either they want to keep it a secret or it really doesn’t exist.  I’ve searched MySpace, Facebook, YouTube, and just Google searches and each time I come up empty.  So please don’t be too mad at me, I tried my best.

It’s been an okay day.  I slept a little later than I meant to but was up earlier than usual.  Came downstairs and convinced my house mates to make me coffee.  Once it was finished I convinced them to pour me coffee.  Of course I’m still trying to figure out what part of cream in my coffee means just waving the carton over my cup.  Even when I asked for more they just waved the carton over the cup.  I’ve seen black coffee that had more cream in it than my cup did.  Of course they were doing it for me, so who can complain.

I then talked to the African choreographer for a while.  He’s very funny.  He doesn’t talk much when he’s in a group of people.  But when you get him alone he’s great.  We talked about his experiences of being an immigrant in NYC and LA and now Chicago.  We talked about how hard it was to get work papers and how expensive it was.  We talked about how it’s easier for an immigrant to assimilate in NYC than it is in other places.  We talked about how American’s assume you are uneducated if you don’t speak English.   We talked about his dancing.  And his life at home.  We chatted for almost two hours.  It was very informative.  He struggles with the language and wants to be able to speak it well enough to stop translating it in his head.  He wants the word to just come in English.  Yesterday I tried to explain what a shark was.  I finally pulled up an image from the Internet and he knew exactly what I was talking about.  I told him about waiting tables and talking to foreigners and how if you speak slowly and clearly they are more likely to understand you.  He told me he apprieciated me doing that for him because it’s easy to follow when someone slows the conversation down.  I shared with him how it is for me to listen to people speak Spanish.  I hear words that I understand but they are talking so fast I don’t even know their context.

And then after all that talking and drinking coffee, I took a nap.  It was a short nap, but a nap all the same.  And it felt great.  After the nap it was off to the theatre for performance number two.  It went okay for the most part.  I was late on a cue at one point, and at another point the light board op and I were not together for a couple of cues.  It was probably only obvious to me, but it was still annoying.  But who’s complaining.  Before the show though, I asked the assistant stage manager to go the scene shop and get gaff tape. If you don’t know what gaff tape is, click on the link and Wickepedia will explain it to you.  She came back with masking tape.  And so I sent her back again.  This time she came back with bright yellow gaff tape.  And I sent her back again for black gaff tape.  This time I followed her because we were in a hurry and needed to open the house.  By the time I got to the scene shop door on crutches she was on her way back with black gaff tape.  So I followed her back into the house (where the audience sits).  Unfortunately, I missed the top step coming down off the stage and to keep myself from falling I landed on the foot with my broken ankle.  It’s been throbbing ever since.  I had to take my Tylenol-3 to get through the show.  It feels okay now, but for a while it was not nice.  The rest of the evening was without incident.

After the show a lot of people came back to our house to have a beer.  We all sat around the living room chatting and enjoying ourselves.  Here’s another Kim story for you.  Kim doesn’t really look at you when she’s talking to you.  She actually rolls her eyes up into her head and looks at the ceiling.  Especially if she’s telling a story or repeating a conversation.  It’s a little disturbing sometimes to see her staring at the ceiling while she’s talking to you.  She is also one of those people that starts laughing half way through their story while everyone else in the room just stares at her, because nothing she’s saying is funny.  She’s very much an animal lover so I tend to say things like perhaps we should come down for turkey dinner when she talks about her pet turkey.  Or that I hear horse is a delicacy in some countries.  Or that her chickens would make a great spicy chicken stew.  Especially if we threw in some goat along with it.  I don’t think she finds me funny anymore.  I also noticed tonight that no matter what the story she can one-up-you.  Tonight there were three people present who had had their appendix removed.  So we were sharing hospital stories and surgery stories…and the next thing I know Kim is describing the HUGE scar she has across her stomach from the tumors they removed from her stomach.  From there the conversation turned to doctor stories and I mad the comment that nice doctors get sued much less than the ones who are cold and heartless even if they aren’t as good.  To which Kim replied, slamming her hand down on the chair, “Nice doctors KILLED my daddy.  We should have sued.  But I don’t think my mother would have survived it.”  I have about ten more examples but as the night progressed I just sat in my chair thinking…my readers will love this.

One of the choreographers gave me a disc of photos that her husband shot of her solo piece.  The pictures aren’t great but you can see a little of what I’ve been doing.  I’m hoping to have real photos in a couple of weeks and I’ll share them with you and explain what I was doing.   I’m making the pictures a little bigger than they should be so they are a little pixilated.

This picture is from the opening of the show.

This is as the dancer moves to the stage

This shows the dancer enclosed in one of the many rooms she’s describing in the text that she’s speaking.   Most of the rooms are created by using eight lights tightly focused in very thin rectangles on the stage.  There were four rooms in all and a small hallway.  The walls of the rooms appeared around her as she moved into the space and disappeared to allow her to exit and move to the next room.  I wasn’t sure it was going to work but in the end it was beautiful.  The photos don’t really do it justice, but it’s the piece that I’m most proud of from the show.  I promise I’ll post pictures in the next couple of weeks when I get them.