Breakfast convened with a bit more substance. Food continues to make me stronger. We shot a scene near our home base and then made a company move to another location. Before leaving I didn’t think about not having orange juice and other Phase-Out survival foods nearby. For the full hour between arrival on the new set and the commencement of shooting I contemplating bringing my situation to a crew member’s attention. However, I didn’t want to be perceived as pushy, demanding or a diva, so I said nothing. I was having a case of “girl disease,” a condition aptly named by my friends Bitch and Billie Cavallero. Potential suffering is better than being pushy.
Lunch orders were called into a restaurant. The PA rushes into the room and says that they don’t have the soup I requested, which was the only hardy soup I could eat on the menu. The only other choice was miso soup, which I had eaten about five cups of during the last 48 hours. Once she left I realized that I should probably order something to supplement clear liquid with a few pieces of mushrooms, seaweed and tofu. When I walked outside she had already gone to pick up the food. The crew was about finished lighting so I walked back to my place. And I said nothing. I don’t want to delay production. I’ll be fine.
After lunch I chewed some gum after lunch to help ward off the dissatisfaction. And continued to say nothing. This gum will fill me up!
The afternoon goes on and my blood sugar level drops. I’m starting to get that murderous feeling again. I find a fizzy fruit drink in the fridge. This helps me for about an hour. We only had another hour left at this location before going back to home base where I would have a full selection of juice options. But an hour turned into two. I got more light-headed. But I said nothing. I can suck it up, we’ll be home before I know it.
Now we’re in the car on the way back to the final location. The 2nd AD said, “We might not be able to stop by the house before heading over.” I blurted out, “I am going to die.” He looks over at my fading color and pained expression and understands that I’m not joking. I backpedal: “I’m OK, let’s just stop to get juice when it is convenient for everyone.” We hit traffic. Several people in the backseat offer to run out of the car at a red light and get me juice. “No, no…I’ll be fine. Let’s just get there.” We slowly weave through the cars to get to the last location of the day. I continue to say nothing and get more and more sick to my stomach. I’m about to loose it, start crying about being tortured (by myself) when the 2nd AD looks over and says, “I’m pulling into Walgreens.” I run in and get a Naked Juice. After three sips I’m a new woman. I start to tell the 2nd that I’ve needed sustenance all day and he says point-blank, “You should have said something.” And I will next time.