[42] TOURNELLE DU SOLEIL • VENUE, BROOKLYN • May 30, MORNING (Patreon)

Whether it was the standing on concrete floors for 8 hours yesterday, or the dancers’ jumping-based warmups, or something else entirely, it feels like someone is randomly slamming a letter opener up under my left patella at random moments during the morning’s final basement rehearsals.

LEFT patella. As in, not the kneecap on the side that I dislocated last week. That one, the right side, is feeling shockingly...fine.

It’s not just the knee, though. That same random stabbing pain is showing up in my right hip, too. Deep in the muscles on the inside of my thigh, where it all meshes in with my pelvis. Worse still: sometimes it doesn’t produce a shocking burst of pain; sometimes my right leg just gives out from under me completely.

You’ve pushed yourself to get back and get going after probably dislocating it. It only makes sense that there’s compensation issues happening on the other side of my body, or above or below the injury point.

I switch my heavy-duty brace to my left knee to help stabilize whatever the tracking issue is. But my usual fixes aren’t helping the right hip: no amount of physio ball, or glute activation, or internal or external rotation band exercises makes a difference.

I can’t narrow it down to a specific angle or rotational movement. I’ve tried. A movement that immediately proceeds a vicious STAB will be safely repeatable just a moment later. A movement that caused no issues ten minutes ago might be the next culprit for my leg to shut off as if someone shut off all the electricity to that limb.

I don’t want other people to know. I want to conceal what’s happening as much as possible. I don’t want the higher up creatives second guessing if they might hire me again. If I’m a liability. Damaged goods. Or just…bad.

I feel weirdly calm about it. What’s the point in adding more to my plate than is already on it by freaking out about it? It’s what’s happening. And there’s really not much I can do to hide it.

During the second last sequence –the one where I have to slowly catwalk to the front on the 8” heels with the rest of the cast flanking me– I make it to the end of the walk, but as I turn to go back to my starting position my leg shuts off. My body wobbles dangerously towards the side before I throw a hand out to catch one of the structural wooden pillars dotting the space. Whoops.

Ron sees it. His eyes widen. Mine flick from his over to Matthew, who didn’t see, and back to Ron. I widen my eyes in response, make my mouth a tiny, flat little line. No words needed.

It’s time to head upstairs and begin our technical validations on the stage.

I find a seat and carefully undo the tiny little buckles cinched around my ankles. Our cast and crew start to make their way up to the second level.

I can do everything else I need to do this afternoon in my sneakers. Time to test and see how much of this leg fuckery is from attempting to stabilize on top of the high heels.

“If someone yells at you today, don’t take it personally,” Ron tells me as he heads for the stairs. The load-in and stage building took longer than it was scheduled to; the schedule is changing constantly. We’re behind schedule. Everyone is stressed.

Remember: you’re having fun.

I repeat it until it starts to feel true.

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Your next instalment of Tournelle du Soleil arrives tomorrow at 7am EST / 1pm CEST!

Until then, stay strange and wonderful - XO, ess