GBS

"Too many acronyms, too many letters, too many numbers......" and there is never an easy way to say it: "your father has GBS-Guillain-Barré syndrome." This is how Jason Hall's play, GBS, poignantly begins. The emphasis on a meaningless acronym, which can be interpreted in many ways in everyday terms, sets the mood for the play.

WILL & DENI MCINTYRE/SPL
Making sense of a frightful condition

Hall portrays the reunion of a family brought together by the unfortunate diagnosis of GBS. From the start, Hall presents a confused interpretation of the condition and at times mocks the meaninglessness of the acronym. This confusion resonates through the lives of the protagonists, who try to make sense of the disease while trying to make sense of their own lives and their strained relationships. The complexity of GBS as a medical condition is juxtaposed to the complexity of the reunion between the two main characters.

GBS is a rare and acute autoimmune disorder of the peripheral nervous system, which begins with rapidly progressing muscle weakness in the arms, legs, and face, leading to paralysis. In many cases intensive care is needed because the condition can be life threatening if the breathing muscles are affected. Most patients recover gradually, but length of the illness and the degree of paralysis varies, and some patients remain wheelchair bound.

In this case, GBS is also the catalyst for the reunion of two estranged brothers fighting to come to terms with their father's illness and the changes in their lives. Rich (Kristian Bruun) is divorced, living in the suburbs of Toronto where they grew up, struggling to cope with his exwife, daughter, and the responsibility of the one who stayed at home. On the other hand, Sam (Daniel Fine), his brother, flew the family nest to London, in search of freedom, escaping the suburbs and the burden of a predictable life. Reunited after some years, they drive silently to the hospital where their father lies in a coma, but hidden conflicts can't be contained any longer.

Journey in a wheelchair

Bruun and Fine carry out this outstanding performance on an empty stage that resembles a boxing ring, taking the audience with them on an unexpectedly funny and moving journey from the streets of the past through the problems of the present to the uncertainty of the future.

The vibrant performance of the actors manages to bring to life a myriad of characters: the distraught mother, the ex-wife who almost breaks Rich's back, the teenagers shouting "paedophiles" when Sam tries to perform cardiopulmonary resuscitation on an unconscious boy, the closeted neighbour with whom Sam has a quick encounter, and the doctor who refuses to abandon his pedestal, among others. Their portrayal of these colourful characters makes the audience forget that there are only two actors on stage.

GBS does not revolve around doctors or hospitals, its central theme is human communication, or the lack of it. Rich is resentful for Sam's desertion, accusing him of escaping responsibility. Sam is torn between his family and his own life, incapable of staying at home and being suffocated in that "zoo for the dull." Unable to understand the needs of one another or the circumstances of their lives, their relationship gradually evolves from bitter strangers to fraternal recognition without falling into sentimentality. Hall's streamlined writing glides effortlessly from comedy to drama, delivering a fresh and honest dialogue that succeeds in grasping the audience's full attention.

Anna Ledwich's direction keeps the energy flowing throughout the play, building a dynamic picture that doesn't let you down. We entered the theatre expecting a depressing play about a family's hospital drama and left uplifted, with the feeling that we had got more than we'd bargained for.

This is a journey that many families have to go through. There is not an easy way to say to someone that their loved ones might die. And doctors have a difficult job in communicating this life changing news to family members. Fortunately, times are changing, and doctors are becoming aware of the importance of taking the time to sit down and explain the facts clearly and honestly, instead of hiding behind complicated terms and acronyms. After all, the hardest part is when the person on the other side receives the words, "Your father might not recover."

We went along on this journey of two brothers trying to bring together two divergent lives and struggling to come to terms with their father's sudden coma, and we left with the positive feeling of what GBS could mean-getting better slowly.