October 5 - Day 18

Today is difficult to write about. It was complicated and scary then delightful and refreshing. I am having a difficult time wrapping my brain around it all and I’m not sure where to start. The only thing I know for sure is that I make boys cry. While this isn’t exactly news, it’s really starting to freak me out. The day began normally enough. I woke up this morning feeling better about my voice than I have in days and while it still really hurts to talk at least sound was being produced. I made it through my Russian Cinematography class without speaking too much and I have to say, for a three hour class that starts at nine in the morning, I find it absolutely captivating. It has been such a great addition to the program. I knew my love of theatre would be easy to reconnect with but having a class that reminds me of all the things that once stirred my interest in film makes the concept of going back to Los Angeles so much more bearable. I honestly love all of my classes. It is such gluttony of the mind. I wish I could retain it all but I know it is impossible so rather than frantically taking notes I just try to relish in the magnificent storytelling of each professor. Half-way through my Acting class, Marianna, the head Administrator of the American Studio pulled me out of class to tell me that MXAT had called in a favor and the foremost vocal doctor (I am sure there is an actual term for this, but I forget) in Moscow would be willing to treat me free of charge. Russians aren’t exactly known for their desire to bend over backwards to help others bur as Marianna told me later things are different at MXAT. You mention MXAT and people are more than willing to work with you. Anyway, we headed to medical office, which is based out of the Bolshoi Theatre as to be available for the most important actors and singers in Moscow at all times. It was a mind-trip walking through the facility like I was someone who actually mattered and I felt so cool surrounded by famous pictures of famous Russian dancers, singers and actors. However, the feeling of awe I all but vanished the moment we went into the doctor’s office, if you can call it that. The most terrifying visions you could possibly have of a Russian medical facility pale in comparison to the real deal. Luckily, my brain just couldn’t really process it – it really couldn’t be like this. There couldn’t really be a set-up straight out of every old black and white horror movie I have ever seen. (I half expected them to lay me back and give me a lobotomy!) There couldn’t really be two of the most terrifying lab-coat clad doctors I have ever seen, one with a ZZ Top beard and the other pushing 90 with a giant bright red beehive, waiting to light medal tubes on fire and then shove them down my throat while I was instructed to pull on my tongue with gauze. I know Russia has come a long way but I don’t think they have quite caught up to modern western medicine. It was horrible. I tried not to cry but I was so completely freaked out by the slew of people me instructions in Russian and saying horrible words in English that let me know things were more serious than I had anticipated. Marianna told me that the doctors said I had had a bad respiratory infection which was causing nodes to develop on my vocal chords. I don’t know much about medicine but I know one thing you don’t mess with is nodes, especially if you are a performer. I had a teacher in high school who destroyed her voice because of nodes and it was horrendous to listen to her speak let alone sing. They gave me a long list of medications to buy, including a special inhaler. Then they told me I would need to be absolutely silent for 5 days and then come back to be evaluated again. I have barely been speaking as it is but the thought of going through class for another week without being able to communicate was just a lot to take. I am still really curious as to how this is going to work. I have already missed the last three singing classes and it looks like I will miss at least two more. After trying three pharmacies for this magic medicine to no avail, I went to catch up with my class who were just finishing up acting. They had all apparently been filled in on the situation and were given instructions not to ask me to speak. Luckily the girls in my class so very sweet and we decided to forgo our plans to go out and instead planned a relaxed girls night complete with mulled wine (one prescription the Russians got right!). We bought, I brick (not a bar) of chocolate, red wine and cheese and artisan bread and hid from the boys on the floor in the room that was supposed to be our kitchen but was never completed. We spread out a comfy blanket on the floor and had a picnic with different ladies migrating in and out throughout the night. We were silly and girlie and everyone patiently waited while I wrote out my comments on a increasingly full notepad. When we finally finished we discovered that the gents had decided to plan a special ‘man night’ in retaliation to not being invited to our soirée. The guys genuinely make me laugh. They were doing the exact same things at 20 that guys I know in their 30’s through 90’s still do. I guess that is the whole idea of guys will be guys – and that is something I find increasingly comforting. So speaking of the opposite sex, I seem to have a strange effect on them these days. Big burly ones, little effeminate ones, it doesn’t matter – they talk to me and they cry. It started the first weekend here. I was talking to one of my classmates Alex, giving him input on his scene and sharing my two cents about the theatre and before you knew it he was weeping. He told me later that it was one of the most amazing conversations he’d ever had (hell, it lasted three and half hour!). The next weekend was the same deal only this time it was one of the other NIU students. Tonight my evening ended sitting across the table from Mitch, while he read my lips (he is partially deaf and the only person I can communicate with now with ease) and I tried to ease his fears and concerns about this difficult path he and I have chosen. Mitch is a big, loud, funny guy, who as I learned tonight had, until this year, never shed a tear. We sat there, me mouthing inaudible words to which he responded in the softest way I have ever heard him speak and he slowly teared up. I was so moved. It was so honest and real. It was the most surprising way to end the evening. I truly believe that everything happens for a reason and if I can have a few more nights like that then another week of silence might just be worth it.