You know this has got to be a tongue-in-cheek piece, because I never try out for solos. I like to blend in with the rest of the chorus and sing my little heart out, incognito.
Last night, however, I made a move that will remembered by all who were there. Our new riser positions put me dead center in the back row, with the hot and sweaty guys. Oh, and little Karen, who is neither. And the thick projection screen behind me, which was stopping all air flow.
I got through the first half of the rehearsal with the guest director with no problems, other than the fact that my black binder was in my chorus bag fifty feet away.
I played it cool and read the music over Karen’s head, even though she was singing alto and I was singing tenor.
Then at break, I used the bathroom and got involved in a dress fitting conversation with Lindsey and Jane. Theresa walked in late and asked why it was so quiet. I hurried back to the chorus room and saw everyone up on the risers, ready to go.
I grabbed my black binder and proceeded up to the top row. Maybe it was my rush to get up there, maybe it was the meds I had taken all day for sinus congestion, and maybe it was my low blood pressure. At any rate, I sang a song and then announced to Karen that I did not feel well.
I sat down on the risers while the chorus sang on. I was getting hotter by the second, so I scooped up my hair to cool off my neck. The spinning was starting. My feet wanted out of the boots and socks, but I didn’t have room to do that. As the heat crept up to my head, I realized I was going to pass out.
So I did what any senior citizen would do when stuck in the top row of risers. I frog-legged my way down the steps, through the pairs of legs until I reached the carpet. That was the best place to pass out.
I laid my head down and closed my eyes. Did I pass out? I don’t know. Soon, Dr. Tamar and Nurse Jeanne were there, checking my pulse and hovering over me. It seemed like a lot of time passed before the chorus resumed singing. It might have only been a minute. But I was happy where I was because the heat was gone, and the spinning had stopped.
“Try to drink.” “Try to sit up.”
No, just let me sleep.
“Here, put your feet up on this.”
I don’t’ even know what this was.
At least my socks matched each other if not my jeans or my black boots.
Eventually they coaxed me into a chair. The doctor kept asking me to drink tea, but only herbal is tolerated by my stomach.
I sat in the chair, listening to the rest of the rehearsal. Dang! The chorus sounded good.
When it was over, I was bombarded by people offering to drive me home. Nancy and Karen won, since they had carpooled, which meant I didn’t need to leave my car overnight in the parking lot. Nancy drove my Prius and me, and Karen followed.
I haven’t taken any sinus meds today. The wind is nasty, and I am skipping the dog walks. I ate at 7:00, 8:00, 11:00 and noon. I will eat my lunch/dinner at 1:45 ish when the chicken is done.
Yes, I need to stop losing weight. Yes, I need to drink or eat salty things in case my electrolytes are out of whack.
Last night was a preview of what might have happened at one of our four upcoming performances. I have learned some things. No meds on singing days. Lots of hydration, and . . .
. . . if you’re going to pass out, be sure to do it in a room of friends, at least 100 or so.