Medical Acting

I’ve had a few a friends do this and I’ve always been interested. The basic concept is that doctors have terrible bedside manners and one way to cure this is to have them do live simulations with an actor. The actor is given a sheet of basic medical background and then fill in the gaps with ad-libbed material.
From what I hear that’s how it goes.

Almost a year ago I was on set and I got to talking with one of the other actors. She was a lovely older women who had amazing advice. She told me how she works with schools doing this medical acting thing.
“It pays really well, and helps you with your improv. At least your serious improv.”

So I took a chance and sent an email to UCLA as well as USC given the recommendation of my on-set friend. I immediately heard back from USC that they would keep my name on file and bring it up when they were holding auditions again, and UCLA I didn’t hear a peep.
Assuming this was another lost avenue for my career I forgot about it.
Until a week ago.
While I’m at work I get a call that goes to voice mail. It’s UCLA wanting me to come in and audition for their medical acting on Wednesday. I called them right back and said YES! Yes I will be there.

The audition was at 8AM, and I am not a morning person.
I can wake up in the morning time, I have no problem there. I can shower get dressed make breakfast plan for lunch what have you. But these are somehow a different part of my brain that requires minimal effort. Then there’s the part of the brain that’s decision making and communication. This is always on hiatus pre- 11:30Am (or so). I have made the mistake of sending emails before this time only to realize I’ve sent messages to roommates saying “Draiqns clog. Please fiqx it. Call LAndlord if unablqe”
Somethin’ about those q’s man!
So needless to say I’m foreshadowing my demise.

I get to the location with plenty of time to pay $11 for my parking, and audition that lasts a total of fifteen minutes. That’s reasonable right?
I ride the rickety elevator that creaks up to the 2nd floor (you couldn’t use my parking money to pay for this?) The doors groan open and I see a large easel that says AUDITIONS HERE! --> and then a few sign in sheets.
A whole row of chairs is facing me, only one of them occupied, and I mentally pat myself on the back for being early. I fill out the paperwork as a young woman walks by in earth people clothes.
Earth people clothes are those who wear gaucho pants, dark color tank tops, flowy shawls, glasses, and bobble earrings. I don’t disapprove by any means, I just always find people who wear this kind of outfit a little more “earthy”
She’s as nice as her clothes suggest, but not nearly as quirky as I’d have thought. (I guess I was being a little clothe-ist) She explains the program and how actors are encouraged to improvise. I’m feeling ready when she hands myself and the gentleman beside me two separate sheets of back-story.
“Reviews these, come up with some details, and then we’ll get started.”
My scenario says that I was 4 when my single mother gave me up for adoption. I bounced around in foster homes. I was 6 when I was adopted. 12 when I found out my biological older brother was kept even though I was given away. Today I’m meeting with a case worker to talk about reuniting with my estranged mother.
Alright pretty bare bones let’s see what I can do. I was four when given away so I won’t remember a lot from that but picture memories. I’ll make sure I remembered the day I was given away. Maybe throw in some tears or something. Oh! Maybe mommy said I was going to daycare then never came back. That’s nice and depressing!
Then the foster homes, I should put something silly in there so as not to make it too dark, maybe one of the houses had a lot of kids and I couldn’t wait to leave for the next house?
Let’s see adopted at 6. I’ll have nice adopted parents, good wholesome…doctors? Nooo, that’s too cliché you goof! Lemme see
I remembered passing a bike repair shop on the way over
They own a bike shop! Oh and maybe they had some cute bike metaphors like “You may not have all the pieces to a bike but you can still ride it. But that doesn’t mean it’ll run smooth!” Nice!
By this time they were leading the guy into the room. I’m trying to think of how my character approaches the whole reunion thing when suddenly I hear them start the audition with the male actor.
I try not to listen, but I’m curious. It’s hard to hear because the door muffles the sound so I go back to looking over my sheet of paper.
The muffled voice raise a little
Come on. Focus. His audition has nothing to do with you.
Suddenly I hear this guy start crying. Like full on heave crying.
Shit.
I can cry, but from the info I’m given I don’t feel it’s necessary. I get a little worked up then remember he has a different scenario.
What the hell scenario did they give him? I wonder.
Before I can go back to looking over my notes and back ground history sheet I hear them finish up.

A voice from earth woman is clear through the door.
“Oh wow. Wow. Thank you. That was amazing. Oh geeze, you got me weeping.”

I hear some proud chuckles come from the actor behind the door.
Smarmy little-
“Thank you so, so much for coming in. That was great.”
The door opens and the earth woman is hiding her tears from me.
“I have to go to the bathroom real quick, I’ll be one minute”
And she scoots off to the bathroom avoiding my eye.
What did that guy DO?!

The actor sheepishly comes out of the room, face still a little red.
Great, he really is humble too.
“Break a leg” and he jogs off to the broke down elevator to take him one floor below, and off to tell some loved one the great audition he just had.

Then there’s me. Muttering words under my breath like “make me” and “follow that”

So when the time comes I’m escorted in by the woman who will be “reading” with me, as we wait for the earth woman to return from wiping off her mascara; I’m mean, peeing.
It’s a couple minutes before she runs in and I try not to think too much about what I’m going to be compared to. The reader, I guess you’d call her, comes in like a social worker and we’re off. Only I’m frazzled now. I forgot it’s barely 8AM and my words outside of my head come in clumps of unnecessary pauses. I try to play it off as nerves for reuniting with the mother who gave me up. I try working in the bike metaphor and instead of establishing the bike shop just throw out the sentence: “You may not have all the pieces to a bike but it'll still work, but you won't have a smooth ride”
Were this written in an email it would have been riddled with q’s but instead it was riddled in non sequiturs.
Thanks mouth.
Anytime.
That’s when the reader hits me with, “So the reason you’re here today is your biological brother is dying and needs a kidney”

I do but beg your pardon??
And my mouth says “…what?”
She repeats and my mouth says “I don’t even know him!”

Later my brain would beat itself up reciting the improv adage always choose to know! ALWAYS choose to KNOW!
The information could have been new to me, but the fact that I didn’t know my brother was a big mistake on my part.
Instead I say desperatly "She doesn't even want to see me to know me? She just wants to use me like a cog in her bike?"

That tied together right? Eh? Impressed? No? Uff.
Needless to say earth woman’s tear ducts were as dry as the Sahara, and I was left in a very uncomfortable “You can go now” silence. I shook the reader and earth woman’s hand then made my way quickly out the door.
Grandpa Elevator was there to with doors opened for five minutes before it shut me off from the embarrassment that came from that floor.

Well. Another story for the books.