One Year of Reality and How It Nearly Killed Me: My Life Behind the Scenes (23 page)

I couldn’t wait for New Year’s Eve. Since 9/11 had happened so recently, I knew that we’d have to go through a lot of checkpoints, and it would take time. However, I needed assistance getting around the airport and security breezed us through without any problems. That was the only cool thing about having an arm cast and looking like I was in chronic pain—I got first class treatment. We were the first ones on the plane, and in Vegas, someone from the airport met us and whisked us through the airport so that we could get a taxi right away. No standing in the long lines waiting around. Since there were three of us and only two beds, I took a cot in the living room of our hotel. Not the most comfortable, but I figured I’d be the one up all night gambling. If I’m in Vegas for the weekend, I don’t sleep. This wasn’t my first trip, but it was my first New Year’s Eve trip.

Then something interesting happened.

I went into the Barbary Coast to play a little blackjack before we went to dinner. As I was walking to a table I heard, “Hey Deborah! Deborah!” This was the second time something like this had happened to me—where someone calls your name in a big city full of a million people. The first time was at Chicago O’Hare Airport, when I ran into a father of a friend. The odds of running into someone you know in such a big place are so slim. Who could know me in such a big town? I turned around to see a couple of the contestants from the
Amazing Race
season I had worked on, as well as one of the casting associates. Well, I thought that was pretty amazing. We had a drink and rehashed old times and caught up on what they were doing. It was great to see them all again and good to know that they were doing well. But another thought ran through my mind. I needed to call my old production manager buddy, Philip, on
Amazing Race
to let him know that there were some old contestants in Vegas.

I knew that the next race was going to start in Las Vegas. I wasn’t sure whether or not it was a coincidence that the old contestants were there, but I wanted to give my friend a heads up. It’s ironic that I knew the starting location of the race, which was
supposed to be secret, but I guess it was one of those widely known secrets. The contestants were probably the only ones in Hollywood who didn’t know where the race was going to start. And I hadn’t even learned it from any of my friends who worked on the show; someone had mentioned it to me at a party. So when I called Philip, he was shocked that I even knew. I told him about the situation, and he thanked me for the information. I never saw the contestants again, and I was assured that they weren’t going to be a problem in Vegas.

Now I was getting hungry and looking forward to eating at the Venetian and celebrating New Year’s Eve in style. I went back to the room to change and get dressed up. Kelly is a beautiful woman, and it doesn’t take much to make her look gorgeous. Her friend was also well dressed and very beautiful. I tried to match all their good looks, but I was dressed more comfortably in a baggy shirt that would help hide the cast on my arm and the fact that I was still walking with a cane. So I looked more like the walking wounded than a class act. But I would not be deterred. I hobbled my way to the Venetian.

It was an expensive dinner, something like a thousand dollars for the three of us. But that included champagne that was passed around for a toast at
midnight. It was a seven-course delight. We had foie gras, lobster, salad and a number of things I didn’t recognize. I even pretended to know something about wine and had a conversation with a sommelier about which Shiraz would go with our dinner. When midnight struck, we walked outside of the restaurant and watched three different fireworks shows. We were in the best place in town to celebrate. A local TV station was also ringing in the New Year live on the restaurant veranda. It couldn’t have been more magical.

And then we had to walk back to the hotel.

I didn’t think much of walking back; after all, it was a lovely evening. But there was one big problem. The streets and some of the sidewalks had been roped off, and police officers were standing in the middle of the road to prevent people from crossing. You had to go with the flow of the crowd. It was a big crowd, and we were getting pushed around. Luckily Kelly and I are both tall, and I could see her kind of behind me. But people kept shoving into my arm, which was very painful. Kelly started getting freaked out because some guy was really hitting her hard. She has an aversion to crowds, and it was starting to get her in a bad way. I couldn’t reach her, but I knew what I
could
do… I raised my cane above the crowd
and hit the guy over the head until he stopped ramming into her.

Finally I got to the street side of the sidewalk and approached a police officer. I saw that some people were being allowed to cross the street, so I figured I would ask him to let me go since I was clearly impaired. He refused. I told him that I was getting hurt in the crowd. He still said, “No.” I asked him why other people, who were in better shape than I was, were crossing the street. He told me that only certain people who needed to cross were allowed. I told him, “What do you think I am?” I showed him my cast and cane, but he still wouldn’t help us. Finally we were able to make it back to the hotel. We were all tired, but I hadn’t had a chance to do any real gambling. So I changed into some more comfortable clothes and headed out on my own, looking for a good blackjack table.

I was being followed.

I always walk around everywhere without fear, and while I have a purse, I carry everything valuable in my bra. I always joke that no one’s been in my bra since 1985, and I’d kill anyone who tried! But there was definitely a guy walking behind me. It started to remind me of the early morning
in Tunisia walking to the coliseum. I could hear his footsteps matching mine. It was late now, and there wasn’t much of a crowd around me as I walked to Bally’s. The only people on the sidewalk were me and this guy. So I was trying to figure out what to do if he rushed me. After all, I must have looked like easy pickins because of the cane and the cast. I hadn’t felt so vulnerable since I was on
Amazing Race
, except this time I felt the danger more strongly. I stopped and played a little bit with my cane, swinging it around. Trying to be surreptitious, I turned to take a look at the guy who was following me. He walked around me, and I watched as he continued down the street. I was relieved, but then I wondered if he had truly been after me or if I’d just been imagining things. I didn’t like acting like a drama queen. Oh well, better safe than sorry. Now I could go into Bally’s and lose the money from my bra at the casino.

We flew back the next day. I couldn’t have had a better time. But the airport was a nightmare this time around. There was a huge line for security, so we looked for someone to help us since I had my injury. We found a security person who took me through in a wheelchair, my friends following behind us with a couple of other people, and we whisked past the long lines and got to our gate in plenty of time.

Before I knew it, I was back at work, but only for a few days because the next Tuesday I was going to have my elbow surgery. They needed to remove the radial head and the bone fragments that had been shot through my arm like bullets when I fell. Again, I reiterated to the line producer that I would have the surgery on Tuesday and be back on Thursday, no problem. I didn’t have a choice—I needed to work. I needed an income to pay my hospital bills (or so I thought). On the Monday before the surgery I worked hard to have everything in order so that I would not be missed. Everyone was very supportive and the line producer was especially kind. I couldn’t have had a better send off.

The next morning, Kelly drove me to the hospital, and we waited around. It was early, and I could see that she was kind of jumpy. It wasn’t long before they were ready to take me back, and she wasn’t going to stay around while I was in surgery. I was going to ask her to keep my cell phone in case I got any calls, but I took it with me instead. I asked the nurse if they could make sure I had my phone in recovery in case it rang. I actually thought someone in the office would call me with questions. I know I wouldn’t let anyone call if I was in the office, but I always wanted to be available. I saw the doctor, met the anesthesiologist, and that’s all I remember.
I don’t even remember waking up in a recovery room.

But I did have a dream.

I dreamt that I was lying unconscious in recovery while the two doctors who worked on me were talking.

“Well, it doesn’t look good.”

“I agree. It would be a miracle if she could use her arm again.”

And the whole time I was panicking and having this dream, my body was perfectly still because I was knocked out. Finally I woke up. I was in a private room (or a room that only had me in it). The nurse was checking my I.V., and she greeted me and told me how to get more pain medication with the morphine drip. Everything was all a little fuzzy, but as soon as I learned how to get more medication, I kept hitting the button. I was in a lot of pain and very uncomfortable. In the back of my mind, I kept returning to the horrible truth—I was only going to stay overnight before being released, and then I’d have to be back at work the next day. I heard my cell phone. The nurse or doctor had left it on my chest,
just as I’d asked. It was the office. For a split second, I thought I was going to be asked a question, that I was actually irreplaceable because they had needed to call me just out of surgery.

“What are you doing answering your phone?” asked the coordinator. I don’t remember what I told her, but it was probably something about wanting to be available. She was just checking how everything went. I told her I was fine. I don’t remember if it was during that phone call or later, but I did call my line producer to tell him that I would not be back. I’m sure I was still a little drugged up. But my bad dream had made me realize that I had to focus on my health and not on the show. He was gracious. I felt bad because I had made such a big deal about coming back, but I’m sure he wasn’t too surprised.

A few of my friends had shown up to visit me. I could hear them and respond to them, but I didn’t feel normal. I kept hearing them saying that I was sleeping, and I would tell them that I was awake. They were having some strange conversations that I will leave it to them to remember. What I do recall was that Kathy, one of my friends from
Wild Things
, asked me if I wanted anything. I told her that I wanted red Jell-O. And as soon as I said that, she went on a search for some. I think I heard that she went into the
cafeteria and stirred them up a bit to find it. She was a mom, and it felt great for her to mother me a bit.

That is when reality really hit me.

I had the surgery, and I went home. While I wasn’t overwhelmed at the moment, I did have a lot to think about. I was receiving disability, and I’d finally figured out that it was a worker’s comp injury, which took some of the financial pressure off my shoulders. Still, the money wasn’t much more than you’d get with unemployment, and I think everyone knows that unemployment doesn’t cover much of anything. I had to start physical therapy on my elbow and my knee, and I had to see a hand specialist, since I had injured my hand as well. I had to take it one body part and one surgery at a time. Since my income was very minimal, I had to find ways to cut back or earn more money. After all, I had just bought a car a year ago, and I had moved into a more expensive apartment. I had some money stashed away, a 401K from a previous full-time job, and a small mountain of credit card debt. But what I was bringing home wasn’t going to pay all the bills. Sure, workers comp took care of the surgeries, therapy, and drugs, but the day-today stuff was my responsibility. I really regretted not having disability insurance. Obviously this was the reason to have it.

But the biggest hurdle for me to overcome was my elbow.

I still had it in a cast after surgery when I went to my hairdresser to get my hair done. This was the third time I had seen her; each time, I had some new cast or wrap or scar to show her. She wouldn’t have been able to recognize me without all of my injuries.

I couldn’t sleep in my bed. It was too uncomfortable to rest on my side, my left knee still hurt, and my right elbow was constantly in pain. So I began to sleep, live, and breathe in my recliner. I did all the physical therapy the doctors asked me to do, but the biggest thing I did was hold onto the arms of my recliner and lean back, stretching my arms. My goal was to re-acclimate myself to straightening my elbow, as it had “hardened” into the L shape it had been in for a while. For hours I would sit in the chair and just stretch it. It was extremely painful, and a couple of times I thought I’d really screwed up my elbow. To this day I still stretch it out because it can get pretty stiff. But I wasn’t out of the woods yet.

A few months later, I had my hand operated on as an outpatient. Again, Kelly dropped me off at the doctor’s office and picked me up when it was finished. I had to start physical therapy on that as well.
And during this time I had to get the occasional x-ray or MRI to see how my progress was going. I also got to know my physical therapist quite well. He was a nice guy, and he worked on my elbow and knee for a while. In fact, I got to know the whole staff, and they became my surrogate family while I was healing from everything. As soon as I could, I started walking without the cane. One time I took a fall in the middle of Santa Monica Blvd. during a busy day, which made me panic because I didn’t want to injure myself again. I was a little terrified by falling given how much damage I’d sustained from a simple tumble. I was shaken and embarrassed, but I survived.

Though I still wanted to think the glass was half full, it was starting to look empty.

CHAPTER 12

THAT SILVER
LINING THING

W
henever I’m at Disneyland, I both love and hate riding the Matterhorn. I love it because it’s in the water, and I like twisting around. It’s about as much as I can take in terms of rides, as I’m a real wuss when it comes to sitting in things that spin, flip, or jerk around. It’s also scary because I’m so tall; I feel like my head is going to be knocked off when we are racing into the cave and that there will be a headless Deborah at the end of the ride. Of course, that never happens, but it sure feels like it will until the end, when I realize that I’m OK. After the ride is over, I need to find a bench to stretch out for a few moments, but I’m
OK. That is what this year of work was like. It was a great roller coaster going downhill, with the wind in my face. It felt great and freeing. But then the unexpected happened—something way out of left field that wasn’t under my control, like a sudden, unexpected drop or turn on a coaster—and I got whipped around incredibly hard. And while I was at a standstill, on the ground waiting for help, my brain and body were in work mode, not in injured mode. I was jerked around into another whole world of emotions and stresses I wasn’t ready for. I felt I had been thrown out of the car.