Public collapse


This morning at church, just as communion was beginning, an acolyte fell over backward in a dead faint. He cracked his head pretty hard on the chair behind him, which was the first sound that alerted me that anything had happened. Everything stopped and folks rushed to his aid, and five minutes later he was being helped out of the sanctuary, mostly under his own power. When I heard the loud impact of his head on the wooden chair, I thought for sure he would have a concussion. But everything seemed to be okay before the service let out.

The scary incident reminded me of other collapses I've experienced in the middle of performances or public events. Most of them haven't involved me directly, I'm thankful to report. Just a few weeks ago, at one of the commencements I attended, a graduate exited the stage and immediately started pulling her clothes off, not stopping at her cap and gown, yelling that she had to get out of there -- some kind of panic attack apparently.

I'm on stage a lot in my job -- giving lectures, presiding over gatherings, delivering addresses. But I've only fainted once on a stage. I was ten years old, a member of an elite vocal group in Chattanooga called the Chanticleers. We were about to give a performance at the University of Tennessee at Chattanooga auditorium that was our usual home. An hour before curtain we were on stage, under the lights, standing on the risers, going through a last rehearsal and warmup. There was some song we were doing that required hand claps, and I remember that I kept missing them, mentally shaking my head, and determine that I was going to get the next one.

Next thing I know the mustachioed face of Howard Alexander, the director of the choir, is right up next to me and I'm sitting on the riser. Some choir mothers helped me to the auditorium floor, plastered my forehead with wet paper towels from the restroom, and gave me a can of soda (a rare treat of my childhood, available only during illness). I milked it for all it was worth, as I recall, but I was on stage for the performance when it started.

The only other time I've fainted was in church in 2000, I think -- probably in September, because Noel was in Toronto for the film festival and I was there by myself. During the recessional hymn I started feeling poorly and sat back down in the pew. The next thing I remember is members of the choir hauling me back upright in the pew. Apparently I just slid over, and a couple of the choir folks processing down the aisle noticed it and caught me. They brought me juice and made sure I felt well enough to drive home. I'll never forget someone asking me if I were pregnant. I wasn't, but Noel and I had started trying, and I'd be pregnant with Archer in just a few months.

If you've witnessed or been the lead player in a public collapse, tell me about it in the comments or point me to the story on your blog.

Posted: Sun - May 27, 2007 at 07:47 PM         |

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