Five days ago (Sunday, 2.17) I slipped on some ice in the Sierra foothills, and fell hard on my back. The right side, which may have saved me. Nothing broken, cracked or bruised, but since that moment I’ve become the King of Pain.

I’ve been floating between three mindsets — anger at the agony, trying to fight off feelings of depression and trying to find ways to distract myself from this ordeal. But today I discovered a piece of Hollywood history that made me realize things aren’t as bad as all that. Or that they could be a whole lot worse. I’m still furious at my temporary fate, but when I think about poor Suzan Ball

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