Well, sorta. The true show for me would be Tomfoolery, but Copenhagen isn't too far off. A play about a bunch of scientists who actually discuss the science they studied. Woo-hoo! I'm playing Bohr. I may have to give a small physics lecture to the other actors regarding just what we're talking about. The performance is at OnStage Playhouse in Chula Vista, January 30 and 31.
Come on down and see if we can make quantum mechanics interesting. It won the Tony for Best Play, but it is not a simple piece to work through.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
See, What'd I Tell You
You do a show, you vanish.
But in this case, something else vanished: My voice.
On October 2, I felt an itch in my ear. Eh, perhaps a sore throat/cold is coming on. Sure enough, the next day was a bit worse and by Monday, it's a full blown sore throat. I take the day off from work to let myself get better. But it doesn't get better. In fact, it's become so bad that swallowing is becoming extremely painful. I can do it, but I end up screaming in pain. Not just wincing: Screaming. And since I can't swallow without this massive amount of pain, I end up drooling as I'm trying to get any sleep.
So I go to the ER to find out what's wrong. I stay by the trashcan/water fountain in the waiting room so I can spit into it rather than swallow. They finally take me into an exam room and I sit around there for a while, spitting into the sink. Finally a doctor comes to take a look down my throat. "Yep, it's pretty inflamed." They take a swab to see if it's strep and order X-rays to see if it's an abcess. If it's the former, then they can give me antibiotics and I'm done. If it's an abcess, that's not as easy as they'd need to stick a needle in my throat to drain it, but it's still treatable.
But, the culture comes back negative and the X-ray shows no abcess (though they do find something else). "You have 'viral pharyngitis,'" they tell me, which is just a medical way of saying I have a sore throat. They offer me viscous lidocaine to help with the pain for now. I have some hope, but not much for this. No, not that lidocaine doesn't work for me but that they're asking me to swallow something for pain in my throat.
I have never, ever had an orally administered anesthetic actually work on my throat. Lozenge, spray, doesn't matter. Of course, I'm not actually surprised by this: Swallowing something means it goes down my esophagus and the pain is in my trachea. Humans have this special flap known as the epiglottis that closes off the trachea when you swallow to ensure that what you swallow goes down to the stomach, not the lungs.
And sure enough, the lidocaine doesn't work. My tongue is numb and I can't feel the motion of my throat swallowing, but I can still feel the massive pain of swallowing. But since what I have is viral, there's nothing they can do about it and they send me home.
And for the next three days, I am unable to eat or drink anything. I mean nothing. And I still have rehearsal. And with my sore throat, my voice is becoming more and more hoarse. The director is very nice with me and doesn't push, but I'm nervous as hell because opening night was only three weeks away.
After three days, I can start swallowing again...sorta. About a quarter teaspoon at a time and I have to make sure that I completely finish the first swallow before I move to the second or the pain is massive again. And I've picked up a cough. It's not productive, but it is persistent. Great. I can't talk and forget about singing.
And everybody is giving me cures for sore throats. Ginger, cayene, you name it, they try to pour it down me and while it's disgusting, it doesn't work. Tea is sorta working at least in the sense that I can get it down, but there's only so much tea a person can drink. After about 10 days, I can start eating soup (in tiny little sips and the heat helps), and I am ravenous as I haven't eaten anything of substance in more than a week.
As opening night approaches, I'm getting worried that I won't be able to project. We're going to be miked but even so, my voice is thrashed and I can't sing. I tell the director that I would understand completely if he decided to get a replacement and I would stick around to help him get up to speed, but he's having none of it. He's sure I'll be OK. Me, not so much.
And sure enough, opening is difficult to get through. My voice is back enough to get through the show, but some friends who saw it apparently had said to each other, "He's got something, doesn't he?" Fortunately, the songs in Sherlock Holmes' Excellent Adventure are music hall types: Not much in the way of range and you don't have to be the best singer to get through it. But my hoarseness does make one section a bit creepy:
At the top of the show, Lucy Matravers has come to ask for Holmes' help. Watson instantly falls in love upon seeing her, which makes Lucy a tad nervous. As Sherlock asks her to say why she's there, she hesitates with Holmes immediately catching on: "Oh, do not worry. You may speak perfectly freely in front of Watson...although I'd advise you to avoid anything suggestive."
Except with my raspy voice trying to be the bastard son of Harvey Fierstein and Lauren Bacall, that line really should have been, "...although I'd advise you to avoid anything suggestive, Clarice."
And during each scene, I'm doing everything I can to stop myself from having a coughing fit. And on top of that, my nose has started to run. So not only do I have to stop myself from bringing up a lung, I have to stop myself from sniffling. The joke is becoming that I'll finally be back to normal by the time the show closes at the end of November.
Little bit, day by day, I do get my voice back. The hoarseness is mostly gone by the third week of the run, but I have no head voice to speak of and forget my falsetto. Again, it is fortunate that the songs are right in the middle of my range so I can fake my way through them. My big issue is the crowing I have to do at one point. My "cock-a-doodle-do" is now more of a deeper croak.
And it turns out the joke wasn't so far off, though it's still too soon: I have enough of my voice back when we close that there is no issue with the show, no coughing or sniffling, but I'm still missing the top six or seven notes of my range. And on top of that, I have a benefit concert to sing in mid-December. Oy.
But time seems to have been the healer it is always claimed to be and I now have my voice back. The benefit goes off without a hitch.
Oh, and that thing they found in the X-ray? It seems that I have an extra bone in my neck, by the hyoid. Freaked the X-ray tech out a bit. "What on earth is that?" Um, what on earth is what? Don't take an X-ray of my neck and then say something like that. "Oh, it isn't anything bad. You've just got an extra bone. Have you always had it?" Well, I've never had an X-ray of my neck before and since I don't recall any aliens implanting anything in there (though the modus operandi is that you don't remember), I'd have to say yes.
But in this case, something else vanished: My voice.
On October 2, I felt an itch in my ear. Eh, perhaps a sore throat/cold is coming on. Sure enough, the next day was a bit worse and by Monday, it's a full blown sore throat. I take the day off from work to let myself get better. But it doesn't get better. In fact, it's become so bad that swallowing is becoming extremely painful. I can do it, but I end up screaming in pain. Not just wincing: Screaming. And since I can't swallow without this massive amount of pain, I end up drooling as I'm trying to get any sleep.
So I go to the ER to find out what's wrong. I stay by the trashcan/water fountain in the waiting room so I can spit into it rather than swallow. They finally take me into an exam room and I sit around there for a while, spitting into the sink. Finally a doctor comes to take a look down my throat. "Yep, it's pretty inflamed." They take a swab to see if it's strep and order X-rays to see if it's an abcess. If it's the former, then they can give me antibiotics and I'm done. If it's an abcess, that's not as easy as they'd need to stick a needle in my throat to drain it, but it's still treatable.
But, the culture comes back negative and the X-ray shows no abcess (though they do find something else). "You have 'viral pharyngitis,'" they tell me, which is just a medical way of saying I have a sore throat. They offer me viscous lidocaine to help with the pain for now. I have some hope, but not much for this. No, not that lidocaine doesn't work for me but that they're asking me to swallow something for pain in my throat.
I have never, ever had an orally administered anesthetic actually work on my throat. Lozenge, spray, doesn't matter. Of course, I'm not actually surprised by this: Swallowing something means it goes down my esophagus and the pain is in my trachea. Humans have this special flap known as the epiglottis that closes off the trachea when you swallow to ensure that what you swallow goes down to the stomach, not the lungs.
And sure enough, the lidocaine doesn't work. My tongue is numb and I can't feel the motion of my throat swallowing, but I can still feel the massive pain of swallowing. But since what I have is viral, there's nothing they can do about it and they send me home.
And for the next three days, I am unable to eat or drink anything. I mean nothing. And I still have rehearsal. And with my sore throat, my voice is becoming more and more hoarse. The director is very nice with me and doesn't push, but I'm nervous as hell because opening night was only three weeks away.
After three days, I can start swallowing again...sorta. About a quarter teaspoon at a time and I have to make sure that I completely finish the first swallow before I move to the second or the pain is massive again. And I've picked up a cough. It's not productive, but it is persistent. Great. I can't talk and forget about singing.
And everybody is giving me cures for sore throats. Ginger, cayene, you name it, they try to pour it down me and while it's disgusting, it doesn't work. Tea is sorta working at least in the sense that I can get it down, but there's only so much tea a person can drink. After about 10 days, I can start eating soup (in tiny little sips and the heat helps), and I am ravenous as I haven't eaten anything of substance in more than a week.
As opening night approaches, I'm getting worried that I won't be able to project. We're going to be miked but even so, my voice is thrashed and I can't sing. I tell the director that I would understand completely if he decided to get a replacement and I would stick around to help him get up to speed, but he's having none of it. He's sure I'll be OK. Me, not so much.
And sure enough, opening is difficult to get through. My voice is back enough to get through the show, but some friends who saw it apparently had said to each other, "He's got something, doesn't he?" Fortunately, the songs in Sherlock Holmes' Excellent Adventure are music hall types: Not much in the way of range and you don't have to be the best singer to get through it. But my hoarseness does make one section a bit creepy:
At the top of the show, Lucy Matravers has come to ask for Holmes' help. Watson instantly falls in love upon seeing her, which makes Lucy a tad nervous. As Sherlock asks her to say why she's there, she hesitates with Holmes immediately catching on: "Oh, do not worry. You may speak perfectly freely in front of Watson...although I'd advise you to avoid anything suggestive."
Except with my raspy voice trying to be the bastard son of Harvey Fierstein and Lauren Bacall, that line really should have been, "...although I'd advise you to avoid anything suggestive, Clarice."
And during each scene, I'm doing everything I can to stop myself from having a coughing fit. And on top of that, my nose has started to run. So not only do I have to stop myself from bringing up a lung, I have to stop myself from sniffling. The joke is becoming that I'll finally be back to normal by the time the show closes at the end of November.
Little bit, day by day, I do get my voice back. The hoarseness is mostly gone by the third week of the run, but I have no head voice to speak of and forget my falsetto. Again, it is fortunate that the songs are right in the middle of my range so I can fake my way through them. My big issue is the crowing I have to do at one point. My "cock-a-doodle-do" is now more of a deeper croak.
And it turns out the joke wasn't so far off, though it's still too soon: I have enough of my voice back when we close that there is no issue with the show, no coughing or sniffling, but I'm still missing the top six or seven notes of my range. And on top of that, I have a benefit concert to sing in mid-December. Oy.
But time seems to have been the healer it is always claimed to be and I now have my voice back. The benefit goes off without a hitch.
Oh, and that thing they found in the X-ray? It seems that I have an extra bone in my neck, by the hyoid. Freaked the X-ray tech out a bit. "What on earth is that?" Um, what on earth is what? Don't take an X-ray of my neck and then say something like that. "Oh, it isn't anything bad. You've just got an extra bone. Have you always had it?" Well, I've never had an X-ray of my neck before and since I don't recall any aliens implanting anything in there (though the modus operandi is that you don't remember), I'd have to say yes.
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