Every day I weep a little, like when no one gets up to give me a seat on a crowded D train, even though I'm staring at them with an elevated arm in a cast, or when I wake up from a dream that I have no cast and realize, no, it's true. I have a broken wrist, my arm is in a cast, and yes, I do need surgery. And sometimes I just weep from the PAIN of my broken bones.
I broke my wrist ten days ago. I'd handed in my TV thesis script the night before, the culmination of two years earning my MFA in Dramatic Writing at NYU. My TV pilot, Undercover Stage Mother, follows a high-powered young talent agent who gets fired and goes undercover bringing her former clients to auditions, terrorizing the other stage moms and their kids in the waiting room. It's a story of a desperate woman looking to stay afloat in the recession, creating a new identity after she seriously screws up at work. I'm thinking now I can write a revised draft and give her a broken wrist too. Every protagonist needs setbacks followed by small victories.
If I am my own protag in the TV script of my life, my setback is my accident. The small victory? It happened after all my NYU work was complete. And I'm right-handed, so able to type this with my one working (dominant) hand.
Breaking my wrist nine days before the NYU Tisch Salute at Radio City certainly gives new meaning to the MFA DRAMATIC writing degree. And I know it's a few broken bones, so stop the pity party, Jen, and get back to writing!
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| Yesterday at NYU Tisch Salute at Radio City! May 19, 2017 |
The wrist will be fixed in surgery on Wednesday, May 24. It's a setback, it's a pain, it means I can't ride my beloved bike in the Italian Alps in July, it means for once in my life, I AM FORCED TO SLOW DOWN, REST, SMELL THE ROSES, with an elevated wrist and a nearby stash of Tylenol and Percoset.
And I did weep yesterday at Radio City during the NYU Tisch Salute. I weeped because my broken wrist upstaged my graduation. I weeped at the end of the ceremony, when students performed "Our Time" from Merrily We Roll Along, a favorite song from my beloved years at Stagedoor Manor. I saw the ten-year-old Jenny Rudin at theater camp in 1982, and now me, in 2017, still creative, still pursuing art, still wearing glasses, still spirited, fearless and resilient.
I'll end with this list, which I continue to update every day:
I'll end with this list, which I continue to update every day:
THINGS YOU CAN’T DO WITH A BROKEN WRIST THAT I TOOK FOR GRANTED
- FOLD LAUNDRY NEATLY
- PUT HAIR INTO A PONYTAIL
- ZIP YOUR JACKET
- TIE YOUR SHOES
- TYPE WITH BOTH HANDS
- DO THE DISHES
- PUT ON HANDCREAM
- DO PUSHUPS
- RIDE MY BELOVED BIKE, TEAL
- CUT FOOD ON PLATE
- WRITE REAL SENTENCES
- FLOSS TEETH
- WASH HAIR AND APPLY HAIR GEL
- CHANGE THE SHEETS
- OPEN CANS OF ANYTHING
- CUT TOENAILS
- SLEEP ON YOUR SIDE WHEN THAT'S HOW YOU ALWAYS SLEEP
- FASTEN YOUR BRA
- UNFASTEN YOUR BRA
- TAKE A SHOWER
XXX MISS CAST
