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"Coma Patients United States Drama"
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Where Nowhere Can Lead You
A gravel road, the rain, the skidding tires, a \"big ole\" tree (or was it that \"little stone bridge\"?) and something hard on which I hit my head-who knows what it was-all a recipe for a single car, single head collision. Number two, you can choose to come back in a vegetative state: you are unaware of anydiing except what's in your imagination, and you will be unable to perform basic body functions or communicate. (Back in 1967 in Louisville, mental recovery took a back seat to physical recovery.) Two failed marriages and numerous career changes and poor relationship choices can all be added to the tally in the minus column, along with bouts of incredibly low self-esteem. Yet there is also a healthy plus column: making it through college and grad school; being a chanteuse in the leather bars of Dallas, Texas, in 1978; moving to New York City; writing a grant-winning play about breast cancer survival to raise money for five health-related agencies; writing an award-winning one-act play; being the matron of honor at my sister's wedding; having worked enough in my performing unions to qualify for pensions; being a dresser on Broadway; and having sufficient wherewithal to find my one true love, my husband Leon, on West 47th Street in New York City.
Journal Article