The Fall

It was the end of the run of shows in Zurich. There were about three and a half weeks left of the tour. We were all tired by this point, almost eight months on tour with only a three day holiday will do that to you. But we had to keep going, so keep going we did.

I remember feeling tired that day, like when you don't sleep very well. That tiredness that is not only physical, but mental as well. And that's when I screwed up.

I was doing my act and things were going well until the salto. To do a front salto out of the German wheel you have to duck under the cross bar and then jump up, pushing off the plates, to execute the flip. Only I didn't clear the bar. Not even a little bit. I jumped head first into that bar but my body was in salto mode, and I tried to rotate automatically.

I remember things going white for about an instant, then thinking that this was really embarrassing. I realized I was not going to be landing on my feet and tried to break the fall as best I could. Apparently, in that moment, the best I could do was landing right on my sacrum.

I tried to get up and for the first time in my life, was unable to. That was worrisome. At that point I resigned myself to the fact that I would not be finishing my act that day and would need help getting off stage. I don't think I was in shock. Maybe I was. At any rate, I was very calm and simply waited.

The only problem was that the musicians were still playing. I remember laying there thinking "If you don't stop playing, no one will know to come for me..."

Because the Universe can sometimes be kind, my boyfriend was the first one at my side. He was doing the lights that night and had run down from the booth. He knelt down beside me and said "There's blood..."

My act was one of the only ones in the show where there is no one else on stage. I later learned that the artists realized something was wrong when my wheel rolled backstage and hit someone who was standing near the curtain.

The circus director, his son, and one of the jugglers appeared by my side. I felt okay until they tried to move me. It was excruciating. I thought my sacrum was going to split in two. The put me on a board, not a spinal board (they really should get one of those) but one of the big planks that they use around the site.

I think that's when I started crying. I felt humiliated as they carried me offstage. I kept appologizing.

There was a doctor in the audience (and also a famous Swiss writer whom the workers are convinced will incorporate my accident into one of his books) who came backstage to check on me. "I'm a pediatrician!" he said, "But still a doctor!"

He was super friendly, held my hand, stroked my hair...

The police arrived and started asking all kinds of questions. They photographed my wheel and wanted to go photograph things on stage. The circus director was furious and refused. The show, after all, was still going on and the public had already been traumatized enough.

Later the police would ask if my wheel had been sabotage. "No, no. It was entirely my fault." I also had the first breathalyzer test of my entire life.

I was taken to hospital by ambulance. They gave me pain killers that made the ceiling move. With great difficulty, they managed to get my costume off ("How do you even get this on?"), but were unable to remove my bra. After what seemed like a million years, I went for x-rays. I told the x-ray tech that I still had my bra on. The doctor, a cocky Italian chap, replied, "I can get it off."

He could not.

The x-rays came back clean, but I was unable to sit up. Worse, when I tried to stand, I couldn't put any weight on my left leg. I couldn't walk.

I went for a CT and that came back clean too. By this time, it was about 4am.

I spent the night at the hospital. The director of artists kept texting to see how things were going. She asked if she could get me anything. I asked for a time machine.

Remember how my boyfriend mentioned that there had been blood? I though he meant a trickle. As it turns out, I left a small puddle on stage. Only no one realized it at the time and so the next scene saw all the artists dancing through my blood. I'm told it was horrible. I believe it. Someone had to come on stage and wipe up my blood. Meanwhile, I got the first stitches of my entire life.

I went back to the circus the next day. I could barely walk, but I would be okay. My hair was still matted with blood and when I showered, it looked like the scene from Psycho.


For a while, it was unsure whether or not I would even be able to make it back into the show. But I did. Oh, but I did...