It is done.
Fighting Chance's fantastically successful run of
Sweeney Todd came to an end Saturday night after an epic four performances in 24 hours. We added extra shows after great reviews in the
Georgia Straight,
Vancouver Sun,
Vancouver Courier and
West Ender increased the demand for tickets. The weekend was absolutely crazy, with us doing a 7 pm show Friday, then an extra-bloody midnight show to a packed house of costumed Todd-heads, rushing home for a few hours sleep and returning to do a matinee and an 8 pm show Saturday, followed by a frantic striking of the set as we had to be out of the Jericho Arts Centre pronto.
The past two weeks have been particularly challenging for me. I caught a nasty virus that settled in my lungs. I tried to soldier on through work and performances and ended up having to walk off-stage last Thursday night due to uncontrollable coughing, and culminating in me passing out at work last Friday. I had to be put on a nebulizer so I could breathe. Since I couldn't breathe, I definitely couldn't sing, and missed that Friday, although I trudged to the theatre that night in the hopes that somehow I would magically be better by the time I got there. I wasn't.
I woke up the following Saturday morning feeling worse than I had Friday, but was determined to make it through the entire day. I showed up for callbacks for a new show, which I tried to stumble through, and was sure I would be able to make it to the Saturday evening show, but the afternoon's activities had proven to be too much and despite sleeping for a few hours, I found myself pulled over on the side of the road on the way to the Jericho having another choking coughing fit. I couldn't do Saturday's show. I went home in tears, feeling so guilty and unprofessional. I am still kicking myself for thinking I could get through Saturday afternoon and the show that night. Added to the guilt of letting down my company was the guilt my employer was throwing on me for burning the candle at both ends and getting so seriously ill. I spent most of my recovery time fretting about who I had pissed off, rather than relaxing and getting better.
I spent Sunday and Monday in bed, missing a rehearsal for my next show,
Good News, and a Fighting Chance fundraiser where I was due to sing a song from
Sunday in the Park with George, and managed to make it through the next week of
Sweeney performances, barely. By Friday, the virus had made a triumphant return, this time to my sinuses, and instead of coughing fits, I had progressed to sneezing every 20 seconds. I loaded myself with much more cold medication than is recommended and managed to get through both Friday performances, although during my off-stage moments I was sleeping under the props table, and generally behaving like a zombie. On Saturday, things seemed to even out and I was able to get through the final two shows without too much of a problem, thanks to Vicks Vapo-Rub and a Costco-sized bag of Fishermen's Friends. I am feeling somewhat better today, but still quite weak and in desperate need of rest.
So, lots of lessons learned. One, that my health is important, and I am not superwoman. I can't do it all, and that trying to do so will cost me, in terms of the people I let down (including myself), and in terms of the fun experience I am missing when I just try to slog through. I need to find some balance so I can work, play, perform, and take care of myself.
Still, I wouldn't have traded this
Sweeney experience for anything. Ryan Mooney, who directed
Sweeney, was great to work for and I really appreciated his vision of the show. The cast was chock-a-block full of amazing performers who I learned alot from and who I hope to work with again soon. There were some serious laughs backstage, despite my germs, and I will treasure those memories for a long time to come. I think though, that after three productions and three different characters, it's time for me to put
Sweeney to bed and look for new shows to obsess over.
I made it through about an hour of the cast party on Saturday night, and then trudged home to bed. I walked in the door at about 10 after 2 on Sunday morning, and literally missed being caught up in this
shooting by about 6 minutes. My friend Ritchie sent me a lovely text this morning which said "If you missed the shooting by six minutes, then someone is watching over you. The goddess wants you to be well."
Well, thanks to whoever was watching. I want to be well, too.
