A new project!

Back in September of 2016 I came across a posting in a Women in Film Facebook group. In the post, Ayelette, an actress, was looking for collaborators. She wanted to produce a web series. She was looking for a writer, a director, etc.

So I responded to her posting.

And last Friday I sat in a rented room at a place called Space Station and watched as she read with a whole host of actors auditioning for roles in our web series. OUR WEB SERIES.

To say I'm still a bit in shock about the whole thing is an understatement.

Back in September Ayelette and I talked about what she was looking for in a partnership. She wanted to tell a good story. She wanted to have fun. She wanted to work with other women. I wanted all of the same things. And so after our initial FaceTime chat, I got to work. I was starting from scratch, not an unfamiliar place for me but a place that takes some time to dig out of. See, I have to build the hole and the shovel and the person to use it all before I can dig out.

There were more conversations. There were a lot of emails. But the cool thing is, Ayelette gave me time and space to create. And it was a pretty great feeling to know I was writing for an audience that wasn't just me and my little circle of readers. She was pretty committed to making this series.

I finished my work this winter. A premise I crafted, characters I envisioned, all down on the pages of seven scripts. And then Ayelette got to work.

Yes, I've had hope before. Yes, I've been excited about projects. There've been table reads, staged readings, pilot development, even that short film made for Lifetime that didn't go anywhere. But this is something more.

This is someone renting the casting room at Space Station. This is actors, who've had real work in real movies and shows you've heard of, coming in and reading scenes I've written.

That was the most surreal part last Friday. As I settled in between the director, Katy, and Ayelette, to watch the auditions, I didn't realize at first that they'd be reading scenes from the actual scripts. I mean I should have, that makes the most sense, but I didn't. And then the first actor started to read. He was a man in his 70s, saying words I wrote for a character in his 70s. I couldn't stop smiling.

Me & Ayelette

I also couldn't stop smiling because Ayelette and Katy immediately took me into the fold of the casting session, they included me, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for me to be there. And, just to let you know, that's not always the case for us writers in Hollywood. In my limited experience in this business I've been brushed aside as "just the writer" several times. To be fair, I've been lauded as "the writer" as well but you never quite remember the good as well as you remember the bad.

Ayelette, Katy & me

And so, by the end of Friday, they'd cast several parts of the series. They're still looking to fill several other parts of the cast and crew. But it's happening. There's a weekend in May when shooting will begin. And I cannot explain how excited I am that I'll get to be on set.

I've learned to be a bit more hesitant in my celebrations of good news when it comes to my writing. Things happen and then things don't. Things fall apart much more quickly than they come together. But this one...this one is moving right along. And I can't wait to share it with the world. Soon...

I went to Planned Parenthood for the first time in February...

Two years ago when I found out about the blood clots and the blood disorder and I spent most of that year being sick and then recuperating, I experienced something interesting right alongside it all. I experienced people, medical professionals mostly, being way more concerned about my gynecological health than I thought they should be.

Now, please, everyone -- keep reading. Don't be scared. Don't think my story isn't for you because you're a guy or don't want to hear about my personal issues or think this might not really pertain to you. 

Because, trust me, it does. It does pertain to you. Because you a member of this society. You have a vested interest in our world. And making sure our world is healthy, and people are cared for, is important. For all of us. 

It was my first visit to a general practitioner after my hospital stay. I'd been assigned a 40-something male doctor downtown Los Angeles. My mother took me. I was barely able to walk, I wouldn't drive for over a month, it was a rough day. I was most concerned about having another pulmonary embolism. About the blood clots that had taken up residence in my legs and groin. About the pain. About the panic attacks. About my high blood pressure because of all of the anxiety. I was barely keeping the tears in. (I cried about five minutes into my appointment.) I wasn't well. And yet one of the very first questions this new male doctor asked me was did I plan to have children.

WHAT THE HELL?! 

That's right. He wanted to know if I wanted kids. And I think I said yes. I'm not sure. He followed that question up very quickly with an inquiry about the date of my last pap smear. 

Now let's be honest here. I could barely remember my own name. I was on pain killers. I was having my parents and Angela help me walk to the bathroom. I was terrified that when I went to sleep at night I wouldn't wake up because I'd throw another clot in my sleep. 

I didn't give a fuck about having children that day. 

I still had pain that was almost unbearable. I still had panic attacks multiple times a day. I wasn't thinking about anything other than staying alive. (This was weeks, maybe months before I'd finally be diagnosed with the gallbladder issues. That was a big part of the pain. That doctor never did catch that issue. My acupuncturist did and I had to press the doctor to order the ultrasound and then when he brought me in for the results he refused to come into the exam room. Literally would not face me. I could hear him tell a nurse the answers to my questions in the hall. But he wouldn't see me. I never saw him again, thank god.) 

But I left the office that day with a prescription for a pap smear and an appointment with an OBGYN. 

Over the next few months I'd see a bunch of specialists. And without fail, I'd walk in and sometimes the receptionist, sometimes a nurse, would ask, when was your last pap smear. And I'd be all, well, um, I have this blood disorder I'd like to talk about first. And it was just last week, thanks for getting all up in my business.

It became a running joke. I'd let my acupuncturist know how many medical professionals had asked about my pap status that month. I swore up and down these offices were getting government kickbacks for signing up women to have their annual exams. I pondered starting a drinking game where I got to have a bottle of wine every day I was asked. 

And eventually, just a mere month or so after that first appointment, I went in for my annual exam. To the new doctor I was assigned by my health insurance. And it was horrible. 

I have never felt quite so violated in quite such a fashion. 

If you've never been involved with a gynecological exam, let me just say, it should be as respectful and painless as possible for the woman involved. I've had fine exams by doctors who just get down to business and it lasts mere minutes. I've had longer appointments by midwives who explain everything and talk a lot. Those are fine too. But this particular exam? 

There were between six and ten other women in the room -- who I assume were all medical professionals. I do not know but I hope this is true. No one introduced themselves to me. I was all alone with a stupid tiny, paper gown on, my feet in stirrups, when they all walked in the door talking and never shut up. The doctor, maybe, poked around and informed me I had a polyp and that meant I might have cancer and as a kicker, she'd broken it and I might have to have the pap smear redone at a later date because of the blood. 'Cause CANCER is the word you want to hear in that physical and emotional state. I had no idea what a polyp was and now one was bleeding inside of me. 

It was over quickly, thank god, and I got dressed and left and literally never went back. I decided to live with whatever was in me and I focused on getting other parts of me better. 

That should not have been the outcome. 

If I was a friend of mine, I'd have wanted the best gynecological care in the world for me. I'd have wanted that polyp out and that cancer checked and all my questions answered. 

But that's not what happened. 

And so here we are almost two years later. I'm fine. I live with the blood clots. I've lived with the polyp but it'll come out next week via the hands of a very sweet, funny, caring new OBGYN I insisted on after that horrible experience. But it took time. It took time to feel comfortable enough to demand I had the right to a better doctor and medical experience. 

And it's that whole long, drawn out story that's still not over that delivered me to Planned Parenthood in February. 

After the election in November, I was in a bad place. I was distressed. I felt useless. I felt like most days I had no voice and even on days I had one, no one could hear me when I screamed. And I felt like I had to do something to change that. And so I did. 

In December I signed up to volunteer at Planned Parenthood. Me and a lot of other people. And that's how I found myself playing get to know you icebreakers with an incredibly diverse group of men and women in the Planned Parenthood boardroom one Wednesday night. We talked about why we were there, why we wanted to volunteer, and how frustrated we were with the world around us. And we all agreed we could do something about it. 

And that's what I've been doing every other Wednesday since then. Trying really hard to feel useful. Trying really hard to make sure that people, women AND men, get the health care they deserve, from an organization that is doing it's best every single day to care for our communities. 

It's not hard. It's stuffing envelopes for four hours at a stretch. I get to help out some really great women who are handling the health care plans of patients. Today I stuck return labels on 500 envelopes. I made copies. I unjammed the copier. I folded letters and brochures. I added my day's tally to the board. I felt like I was a part of making the world a teeny tiny bit better. I helped out. That's it.

But it felt amazing to be useful. Each week when I go into the office, I get a little peak at what happens within Planned Parenthood. I get to see that each month literally thousands of people are receiving health care. Women AND men. And trust me when I tell you this, it's not all abortions. I wish everyone could know this. I mean it is, partially, and that's important. So important. But it's also so much more. 

It's disease prevention and treatment. It's blood pressure checks. It's cancer screenings. It's vasectomies. It's education. It's a chance for people to be cared for and helped and not be made to feel less or worse or that they don't matter. I know exactly how that feels after my experience at that terrible gynecologist's office. And I never want anyone to feel that way. And I never want anyone to go without health care. And Planned Parenthood provides both of those things. 

Health care can be scary. It can be confusing and expensive and hard to get. But Planned Parenthood, despite all of the political issues surrounding it, is thriving. It's serving people. And I love that I get to be a teeny, tiny part of that. Of making the experience of being healthy better for people. Because we all need to have better health care. We all need to be taken care of. We all need to be concerned with people getting what they need to stay alive, and to thrive. That's a human issue. One we all sometimes forget is about people, not about policies or budgets or politics.

Those doctors I first encountered after my hospital stay for the blood clots were concerned about me having children, and about me getting a pap smear, which in retrospect, is still kinda weird but I also kind of understand. It's important. But we need to remember that health care is important for everyone. Of every age. Of every race. Of every gender. Of every socioeconomic status. Of every creed. PERIOD. END OF SENTENCE. Health care is important for everyone. 

And volunteering at Planned Parenthood makes me feel like I get to help remind people of that. That I get to be heard, even if I'm silently sitting in a cubicle stuffing envelopes. My voice is back, and it is strong and it's getting a workout. And just a little paper cut or two.