No, there is no “apparently” because I actually do.

My GP called me today as she knows I’m now home from hospital. She wanted to see how I was feeling and then for the first time (I believe ever?) had to ask me the same question twice.  Our conversation became a dance entitled: “Tchaikovsky’s WTF?” 

Here is how it went.  I also believe every patron regrets paying a single cent for the performance.  Well, she was very good. Nonetheless, I also believe this was the worst pas de deux in the history of ballet.  Ever.

I made my appearance on stage with the most abhorrent jeté I’ve ever done. Due to that, when I landed I did an unintentional sway back.  I managed to recover and attempted my tendu.  My leg was exactly as high in the air as it should have been.  Fantastic! Not so fantastic? It was so out of pose.  My knee was so bent and twisted, it looked completely sideways toward the audience while I was facing them.  I couldn’t find my foot either. 

Okay.  Let’s call this “Improvisation.”  Not “Car Accident.”

I was hoping everyone was really focussed on my GP doing a wonderful glissade until we became close enough, but not quite enough to embrace.  She held my forearm for a brief pause as the music continued.

I whispered, “Hey, what’s up?”

She said, “They didn’t give you antibiotics for the pneumonia on the X-rays?”

I looked at her strangely and even if the audience noticed my expression, it would have been fine for the pas de deux.

We separated and I made my way through a bourrée en dehors.  I made the circle a lot smaller than it should have been! However, I really didn’t do myself any favours there.  I still had to keep time to meet up again with my GP! I NOW needed to stay on pointe for a lot longer! “En dehors, out the door INDEED!”

I started to wobble.  Did I fail to tie my shoes correctly? Are they too loose? Did someone steal my shoes and leave theirs in my own little, storage space? I looked out of the corner of my eye.  I couldn’t believe what I saw, but most importantly, my GP was going to rescue me!

She had already done several, massive changements that were not in the initial choreography.  They’d never even been considered.  I knew what this meant.  Her changements were a way of getting her frustration out.  Immediately behind me, her arm around my waist for another brief pause.  Only a very slow (thank god!) turn.  I stretched my right arm out in a simple allongé, palm down. The IV puncture in my arm was killing me!

Again, she spoke, “So they really didn’t give you..?!”

I stopped her.  “They told me the X-rays were just fine!”

Now I know the possible problem.  Perhaps?

I was asymptomatic, but my Immune System (that’s pretty messed up already) somehow REALLY kicked into high gear.  Did it start beating up on a “soon-to-be-sick” PA? Explanation for 11 days of the extremely high fevers, making me go out of my mind and totally delirious?

Well, I’m symptomatic now.  I’ve been coughing and hacking at the barre, in my dressing room, just everywhere.  All day and night.

Now, it was time for me to finish the performance.  I had no clue what to do as I felt myself start to cough.  Shit! Ah, to hell with it.

All they got with Tchaikovsky now booming for my finale was this: a weak échappé demi-pointe, and one more allongé as I could not deal with that needle puncture anymore! I then walked off the stage like a zombie.

Entering the wings as a zombie, I started to hear a lot of applause. I smiled and knew it was for my GP.  She dragged me out to bow, and I did–only because I had become a zombie.  We were both presented with our on stage bouquets, but I looked down and saw flowers.  Red Roses for my GP, White Roses for me.

Someone even brought a very young girl to the stage.  Her hair tied in a tight, ballerina bun and she had a beautiful, lace dress on. She was also holding so many White Roses I was amazed they could fit into her tiny hand!

Too shy to say anything, only a smile.  A man lifted her up so I could reach the flowers.  I leaned close to her ear to thank her and tell her how beautiful she looked.  I shook her hand and then the man placed the concert program with a pen into my hand.  I smiled back at her and signed it.  Now the entire theatre was screaming!

My GP and I took one more bow and exited.  I took the young girl’s flowers with me.  I’ll be sure to smell them every time I have to take all of these antibiotics I have now.

CODA: With great apologies to Suzanne Farrell, Jacques d’Amboise and George if he was still with us today.  Although, if you two somehow read this insanity, you might just dismiss it as, well…insanity!


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