She passed awy, a few days shy of her 34 th birthday and just days after her second book was published, with her loving family by her side. Last week, though, death’s “door” finally opened to Amy. And she went on to a long “detour” of a life changed by medical crisis. She survived, after over 10 surgeries in the first week alone(!). Instead of prom, Amy had spent months in a coma, at death’s door. Said stomach had literally exploded a few years prior, due to a major blood clot, right before Amy was supposed to graduate high school and go on to the prestigious college musical theatre program she’d been accepted to. She was kept alive thanks to a daily IV solution, administered because she no longer had a stomach. She hadn’t eaten anything for over three years. Not only was Amy 30 years younger than I am, but she actually looked the part of the underfed, abused waif that Dickens’ Nancy probably was. The role went to my friend Amy – who was, to be fair, much more suited to it. I didn’t get cast (it had been a long shot, age-wise, but hey). Ten years ago, I auditioned to play a role I’d performed twice before: Nancy in Oliver.
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