Hayavadana by Girish Karnad; this is the show that changed my life.
I was a freshman theatre major, and I had just added my youth ministry major to my curriculum. It was the first week back to school and the first week of rehearsals for my first show in college. My best friend and I were two of the best parts in the play and we were over the moon! The play was set in India showcasing Indian culture, folklore, and movement. Our director lived in India, and he came to the States for that semester with his family to put on our show. He brought many physically demanding Indian exercises for us to do. It was thrilling!
Friday Jan. 18, 2019. The cast is standing in a circle. We have our shoes off, per the director’s request and he is explaining a new exercise. He takes a wooden rod, about three feet long and three inches in diameter, and begins explaining that we are supposed to throw this rod while keeping the rod completely vertical. The person who catches it needs to use their whole body to catch it fluidly, then throw it again. It seems easy enough, however we are all uncoordinated theatre people and none of us have protective footwear on. We are asking for disaster. The first five minutes of throwing are completely uneventful, we toss to our neighbor, then we toss across the circle, and then we add another rod. What could go wrong? The director instructs us not to strain to catch a rod, but to just let it fall, pick it up, and throw it again. “Do not break your stance,” he says to the group. Okay, I think. A rod comes sailing in my direction. Time slows for a moment, and I assess. I think it’s too far away to catch without straining. I probably won’t catch it. I reach for it anyway, but I was right. The rod is still vertical as it falls. Instead of hitting the floor, it hits my left foot right where the big toe meets the rest of the foot. It bounces off and lands on the floor. The sensation of my foot being crushed by this rod is hard to explain. It was like when you strike a tuning fork, and the vibration is concentrated and violent. After a moment, feeling floods my foot again and the pain begins. I pick the stick back up and throw it to the next person, finally looking to assess the damage. The area that was hit has swelled up to the size of a cherry tomato, and it’s bleeding. I tell my neighbor that I need to go see our stage manager and hobble in shock over to the table. I lean down and say with a panicked chuckle, “Haley, I think I need some ice.” They also look down to see the horrifying shape of my foot and the blood through my sock.
“I don’t know where the ice machine is in this building,” they look at me with a hint of panic. I can tell she doesn’t want me to freak out, but we both know this is not good. My tolerance for weight on the foot is lessening by the second and the pain is sinking in. Horrible, sharp, aggressive pain.
I lean over the table, “There’s snow outside.” With that, our dramaturg is off with a plastic grocery bag to gather some snow from outside. I limp over to the wall and sit down on the floor. I carefully peel my sock back to see my hideous foot. It was swollen, already bruising, and bleeding from a little cut of the skin. When our dramaturg returns from the great outdoors, he sits with me and presses the ice to my foot. The game finally ends, and the cast and director finally notice me on the floor. I hear questions of confusion, comments of pity at seeing the injured foot, and the best response from my director, “Why didn’t you stop immediately?” I did. Thank you for noticing. It was Friday night in a rural area. This means that no Urgent Cares or Emergency Rooms would be open. I spend the rest of rehearsal against the wall, snow on my foot, trying to pretend the pain was not excruciating. The next morning, before the big blizzard that is expected to hit at 10am, my friend drives me to the ER where they X-Ray my foot, determine nothing is broken, and send me on my way. They assure me I will be better in two weeks.
Tuesday Jan. 18, 2022 is my third anniversary in pain. Because of this “mild injury” I have experienced three years of debilitating chronic nerve pain. I have seen over 10 different physicians, tried various medications and holistic treatments, and have become a part-time wheelchair user. It is strange to think about the time before, because my body can’t remember life without the stabbing, the burning, the buzzing, and the aching of the pain from this nerve damage. Each physician telling me a different timeline, giving me different treatments, and referring me to a different physician when inevitably they reached their limit. My podiatrist told me in May of 2022 after prescribing my wheelchair that there was nothing more he could do for me. Three years of x-rays, MRIs, injections, pills, oils, and still striving for relief. I have become disabled. Every year on January 18th, I allow myself to feel whatever I need to. I let myself cry or sing, dance or lay down for hours. I let myself experience the emotions that I need to. This anniversary will never be a happy one, but I try to make it one of gratitude. I think of the person I have become at this school, through this hardship, and I am grateful to be her. I am grateful that I have this new perspective of the world. I am grateful for the friends I have in my life who believe me even when the doctors won’t. I am grateful for the strength, perseverance, and grit I have developed over the years. And I am grateful that me and my family never gave up. There is a light at the end of this long hard tunnel.
My most recent appointment was with a neurologist. He told me that he doesn’t believe that my condition is permanent. He is willing to look at another diagnosis, do more testing, and arrange a comprehensive recovery plan that heals my body, mind, and spirit. He believes that I can achieve relief! It is still a long way away, but it gives me hope again. It gives me the drive to push through the pain a little more and it gives me permission to begin imagining a life without pain. A life full of different shoes that don’t become excruciating within ten minutes; a life of activity where I don’t have to strategically plan how I am going to get around campus if I take my dog on too long a walk; a life where I can be free. While January 18th will never be a happy anniversary, it will always be an anniversary for me and I will celebrate it for many years to come, because for better or worse…
Hayavadana by Girish Karnad; this is the show that changed my life.
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| Logan Hill, 2019 ONU graduate, as Kali the Goddess costume design: Ameera Ansari lighting design: Kathe DeVault |
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