October 24, 2010

     What a week.

     Monday I couldn’t understand why my leg itched. Finally, I check it out only to find a nasty rash around my scar. I went to the Doctor’s clinic only to be told my wound was infected and I needed to go back to the surgeon’s clinic. I got an appointment for Friday though I had no way to get there. A quick word of prayer and I turned my mind to all things Masquer. I loaded up my rehearsal CD only to find it skips throughout the entire score. Thank the Lord it wasn’t bad enough to keep me from working on memorizing the first three songs.

     Trying to be a good girl and not scratch, I spent much of the week going over the notes on stage blocking. I always write them in pencil because Ian has been known to change his mind. In my mind I ran and reran my cues. Where I stand when I first sing, Celebrate. Where to move when we break into parts. The spot I march to in a perfect clock-like rotation only to stop crisply, face the audience, and remind them to Celebrate. Finally, I wind up in my starting position, my alto with attitude checking to see if everybody is Celebrating. From there I disappear through the same side door from which I made my grand entrance.

     Did you know being on stage isn’t just knowing your lines and where to stand? Even as a wandering ensemble player you need to be somebody. Preferably somebody coming from somewhere and going somewhere else. My first scene is in a mall. Unfortunately, after spending so many years working in retail, my first thought was I’ll be a shopkeeper. I can hand out candy canes with my ½ off sale ads tied on with green ribbon.

     Did you know that many times you need to rethink even the most brilliant sounding ideas? This isn’t about making money! It’s about Celebrating God! Remember??? Celebrate! I sat home, still not scratching, asking myself why I was so happy in a crowded mall on the last shopping day before Christmas. A Halloween card from my family saved the day. It was so obvious. Pictures. Loving memories of my grandchildren. I couldn’t wait to share them with everybody, at least everybody in my section.

     So Friday rolls around and a neighbor who has no car suddenly receives one from her daughter. Thank God. We go to the surgeon’s clinic and I’m checked out by three Doctors. A surgeon, a wound specialist, and an infectious disease doctor. They can’t believe my wound has never closed over. Before I knew what was happening, I was flipped onto my face over an examination table. I was given a “local” and they were cutting away at my wound mumbling about my mussel not coming together.

     Come Together, RIGHT NOW, over me.

     Sorry, but it had to be said…or sung.

     Once my leg’s open, they shoved a q-tip in to check how deep the stubborn mussel ran. One doctor told me this would be the last time I’d be cut open and to make an appointment for next Friday. Another doctor said I had a simple staff infection that had run close, but not into my wound. No big deal. A fifty dollar cream and some anti-itching pills would be ready for me when I left. The final doctor dressed my leg in a sock so tight, I had to brace myself against the table and plant my foot squarely against the doctor’s chest as he showed me how easy it was to put on.

     Sunday morning, I’m sitting in church, determined to make it through the day. Remember the anti-itch pills? They had a side-effect. Take one every 6 – 8 hours and zzzzzzzzzzzzz. What? Oh, yeah. Masquers. I’ll have lunch and…….zzzzzzzzzzz. What was my line? Where do I Stand? Is there a nearby cot? Sadly, I wound up going home and back to bed. I’ll keep working on the soundtract and refresh myself with Ian’s blocking then I can zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.