"You never know what you can do until you have to."

My mother says that a lot. "You never know what you can do until you have to." As someone who in the last few years has had to deal with a lot of things she never had to before, she would know better than most. Of course, I personally think it's just her modest way of brushing off my wonder at how tough she is. But especially for those of us who aren't quite so strong in normal circumstances, what comes out when it matters can surprise you.

We had a great first weekend of Sherlock Holmes performances. Thanks so much to all you wonderful friends who came to see it. But Friday was far and away the toughest night for me to get through, and I'll tell you why. I had a to do list made up of all the things I had to accomplish before my 6:30 call and I was making good progress by around 3:30 when I noticed as I spoke to Steph that I could only see about half of her face. A halo was developing in my right eye, which for me is always the first sign of an onset of a migraine. Three hours before call on opening night, and I was coming down with a migraine. Of all the rotten luck.

Steph kindly made me some tea while I took some Excedrin and tried to plan. One thing was certain, I had to be at the show, and I was not going to screw up my performance of the best role I've had in years. So I slugged the tea and tried to sleep it off, but I woke up about an hour later with my head pounding and my guts rolling. I found my phone and texted Bernie-- "help". He works over at Brandeis so he could get over in just a few minutes. "I know you," he said. "If you're asking for help, you must be in trouble."

He was wonderful, bringing me water and cool washcloths and rubbing my forehead, but I was in bad shape. I threw up five times, could hardly sit up. Bernie called Matt, my director, to warn him that I was sick. By the time six rolled around and it was time to leave, he said that he would drive me. I was nauseous the whole way, but managed to make it without incident. Word of my migraine spread fast, and the rest of the cast and crew was wonderful, sympathetic and encouraging and trying to be helpful. I laid sadly on the green room couch and threw up about five more times. Some of my fellows told me later that they didn't know how I was going to manage to go on. But at a half-hour to places, I dragged myself up, put on my makeup, and made myself appear a reasonable facsimile of an upright, prepared actor.

And I got through. I didn't even screw up any of the myriad costume changes I had to make, thanks in large part to my lovely dresser Stephanie. I'm told the scene where I am pale and distressed from being a prisoner inside my house for several days looked unusually realistic, but largely my performance was where it was supposed to be. I'm very proud of myself for bearing up. And I'm extremely grateful to my concerned and supportive cast and crew, and of course to Bernie, who was a prince, and without whom I never would have made it.

Hopefully next weekend will begin more auspiciously. My parents and brother are coming, as well as some more lovely people. I will do my best to take better care of myself so I am not forced to work through this again. But it's nice to know that I can be a tough little bastard when I need to.