It went like this. I was in a scene in the other show I'm in, A Roof Overhead. Somehow I stabbed my chin with my thumbnail. My chin hurt a little and I put my hand on it. I took it back and there was blood all over my hand. I looked at Randy King, who plays my husband Max and said, "I'm bleeding." I'd like to think I was in character. My daughter Naomi, played by Penny Pendleton, was supposed to come onstage. I yelled, "Naomi, will you bring me some Kleenex? I'm bleeding."
I don't really remember all that happened, but interspersed in the discussion of my bleeding, which seemed to stubbornly go on and on, in spite of me pressing paper towels, dry and wet, onto the wound, and me holding a piece of the paper on the wound for a while, we did get through the scene. But it went like this:
- play dialogue
- comment about bleeding, by me or someone else(?)
- play dialogue
- Penny putting water on a piece of paper towel and dabbing my chin
- play dialogue
- me making a comment about how I was still bleeding
- me looking at my hands and seeing they were pretty much covered in blood
- play dialogue, which was a rather intense scene where I get mad at Max, all the while holding the paper towel to my chin, impeding any natural-looking movement as I storm around the stage
- play dialogue
- stage kiss
I admit, the next few scenes, I wanted to keep touching the band-aid. It took a certain amount of concentration to leave it alone.
I was so overwhelmed with the ickiness of this whole thing, I kept talking about it backstage with anyone who'd listen. I apologized over and over. I probably sounded like a prima donna (one of my big fears--that I'll sound like one, or actually BE one) but I was, I admit, pretty freaked out. I worried that I'd still have that stupid band aid on at the end of the play, which is supposed to be about 18+ months later.
The two things I worried about most did not happen, and for this I am grateful. One was that the bloody (pun!) thing wouldn't ever stop bleeding, but by intermission, it was in remission and I patted some powder on it and you couldn't even see it. (I was a little freaked that I'd put powder on and it would bleed again and made some kind of icky mud made from blood and powder. Is this too graphic? Too bad. It's my blog.) The other thing I worried about was that we actors all would be overwhelmed with the possible comedy of this and remark about it throughout the play. Thankfully, that didn't happen.
Backstage I texted a few friends and took a photo of me with the lovely band-aid on my chin. That's one photo I need to definitely put in my portfolio. Not!
My friend Cynthia came to the show and told me later that she was at first a little surprised by it all and wondered if this happened every night. She asked me, "You don't bleed every night, do you?" This leads me to believe that somehow, we carried off this rather unfortunate problem with some semblance of believability. I also am profoundly grateful that I have become friends with Penny enough that we really could be mother and daughter and it was very normal to have her doctoring me onstage. I didn't feel awkward. Well, not awkward about her fixing my chin anyway.
I had made a vow of no more ad libbing. Then I had a bloody disaster. How can you have something like this happen and not just deal with it? Answer: ad lib all over the bloody place.
Question: Should I wear gloves onstage tomorrow? I have a matinee and and evening performance! I don't have that much chin left!
Keep Playing! And keep a first aid kit handy!
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