Autoimmune: This Is My Story

Sick Backstage

The months of April and May were hectic for me. I was trying to stay proactive within the extra curricular activities I engage in within my school community.  I was trying to fit in all my revision, homework and study every night. To keep myself writing and reading routinely every day. Balance my weekend job working for my parents' business. I was also trying to keep the lines from the play I was due to star in with my youth theatre group in the upcoming weeks, fresh in my mind, so that I could apply myself to the fullest at our rehearsals. I was trying to do everything perfectly. Trying to be the perfect student, the perfect daughter, the perfect person. This was all alongside my symptoms starting to brew to the surface again. I tried to ignore it, and I think I did a fairly good job, but the one thing I was really struggling to battle was the intense lack of energy and concentration I was experiencing. I normally work well under pressure, but the gradual progression of my untreated illness was starting to weigh on me. I was beginning to crack. 

The day of the play, I felt great. I had made sure to get plenty of rest the night before. It seemed to be working. We participated in warm up workshops and threw ourselves into a couple of hours of rehearsals before hand. Then, a couple of hours before our play was due to begin, we headed off into town to grab some food before the show. We went to a local restaurant, where I ordered myself a gluten free meal. I had surmised at this point, that the consumption of gluten didn't seem to be my problem. But, we were due on stage in another hour and a half, and I didn't want to take any chances. 

We returned to the theatre and did another quick run through of the play. It was then that I started to feel a little nauseous. I pushed the feeling aside and went to the dressing room with my female co-stars. We changed into our costumes and headed towards the stage. As our play's director was giving us some last minute instructions, I started to feel that familiar twinge around my rib cage. I felt the acid rising again. The fluid building. I again felt the urge to belch and retch, but I was just backstage in front of a crowd of about a hundred people and surrounded by my co-stars and peers. But, my friend, who I also know through extra curricular activities in school must've noticed that I didn't feel too well. I was holding my hand to my mouth, hoping no one could hear me retching. 

At this stage, the director had left and she was up controlling the lighting and sound of the stage. I told my friend I was feeling really sick and she told the others. They were all supportive and told me I could leave and they'd cover my lines for me. There were tears welling in my eyes from the pain. I felt so sick and I did want to leave. But, I didn't want to let them down and put all the work and energy I had invested in this play to waste. So, I shook my head and followed them onto the stage. 

I think I disguised the fact that I was close to vomiting in the middle of the stage, and I continued to push myself to remain in character. But, each time I was required to leave the stage for a few minutes, I felt a flood of relief wash over me. Every chance I got, I quietly gagged backstage. I tried to release some of the air or fluid or whatever it was building in my abdomen for some relief to the pain. 

Thankfully, the play went really well. I didn't mess up. I got all my lines right and as we all lined up to bow at the end, I felt delighted. I smiled out at the crowd, disguising just how vile I felt on the inside. After the play, one of my co-stars told the director that I had been within inches of throwing up backstage. She was very concerned and asked if I was alright. I said I was but I didn't think I could stay for the after party. I left with my mother, who told me that I did really well in the play. She didn't even notice that I had been hiding feeling so extremely sick while performing on the stage. That did make me feel somewhat better, mentally, anyway, for if my mother had been unable to notice it, I don't think anyone else would've.