By Jason Miller

Rodleen Getsic had it all.

Born Rodleen Giecek in Wenatchee and raised in Granite Falls, she moved to Los Angeles in 1996, changed her last name to a phonetic spelling, and took off on an artistic trajectory that seemed destined only to rise.

The singer/songwriter/actor/record producer/artist opened for bands, played clubs, and dove into charity work. She opened for Rat Dog—the band formed by Bob Weir from the Grateful Dead—and wrote and sang a song at his wedding. She sang backup vocals for the Deftones’ “White Pony” album, which went double platinum in 2023. She acted in a horror movie that gained worldwide attention. She served as lead coordinator for Perry Farrell’s charity, Jubilee Freedom Foundation, which partnered with the Christian Coalition to buy Sudanese slaves—then free them. She was writing a rock opera.

And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Getsic’s resume is dominated by interactions with a who’s who list of celebrity royalty. Even the Getty family’s Gettlove charity makes an appearance.

“I was doing 100 things at once,” said Getsic. “I was focused on what I was doing; I had faith that my path was going to open. I just let my career happen; I didn’t push it.”

Getsic was starting to dip a toe into the L. A. comedy scene, too, when a decidedly unfunny thing happened. On March 8, 2010, her life came to a full stop in the bathroom of her favorite restaurant.

The fall

“It was a freak accident,” said Getsic. “I went into the one-stall bathroom with a cement floor. I stepped onto a mat and my entire body flipped completely backwards. I landed upside down on my head and left shoulder. It knocked me out. When I came to, I was still in the bathroom. My feet were still standing on the mat above me—my body, my hips against the wall.”

Getsic headed to her Second City (comedy) class, but her vision started closing in and she vomited. She ended up at Cedars Sinai Hospital with a severe concussion.

After that came a series of hospitals and imaging, which revealed a contusion on the brain—a traumatic brain injury (TBI). On top of the TBI, she also injured her brainstem; that injury was the source of a pain so severe it left her incapacitated.

“My symptoms kept getting worse and worse,” said Getsic. “And neurologists told me that brain injuries aren’t supposed to hurt.”

Eventually, a friend drove her to Washington to be with her parents, Ed and Pam, and her brother, Rudy. 

It wasn’t immediately clear where the pain was coming from, and why it was so intense. Getsic at first refused pain medicine because she wanted to do her part to trace its source. Instead, she turned to coping mechanisms: drawing, journaling, singing, bed rest—for years.

“It got worse and worse between 2010 and 2014,” she said.

In January 2013, while living in Sedro-Woolley, she died.

“I could feel all my organs shutting down, and I wanted to just die in my own bed. But I knew I had to come back to the world. I had a vision that ended with people lining up for events, and the whole time I was saying, ‘I have to go to Heaven.’ I started yelling at them, ‘Go to Heaven! Go to God!’ and nobody was listening, until others started chanting with me, ‘go to Heaven’ and we all started rising up, and then I was suddenly back in my body, in bed, my face crusty with tears.”

Neurologist after neurologist took turns trying to figure out Getsic’s core condition. Then, back in California, she saw Dr. James Collins at UCLA Radiology.

“He saved my life,” said Getsic. Using a special MRI/MRA/MRV machine and his diagnostic skill, he discovered Getsic was experiencing thoracic outlet syndrome—or venous compression—at both of her jugular veins, so her brain lacked the flow of blood needed to operate properly, let alone without pain.

“That answered why I had so much pain,” recalled Getsic. “[Dr. Collins] said, ‘What happens if I squeeze your arm so hard that no blood gets to your hand? It dies. And dying hurts.’ So my brain was dying. And dying hurts.”

After tangling with the reality of health insurance in the U.S. and getting financial help from friends like Aileen Getty, Getsic was able to access doctors who helped to further diagnose her condition. She finally secured health insurance in 2016, and received a $25,000 motorized wheelchair in 2017. The wheelchair included head support, a crucial component that helped her avoid pain, seizures, and states of paralysis that had left her unable even to speak.

“I’ve put almost 1,400 miles on the wheelchair between then and now,” said Getsic. “I got a wheelchair van and put more than 160,000 on it during that same period. I felt free.”

Healing journey

With a solid diagnosis in hand, Getsic sought to fix the problem. “One doctor wanted to remove my collarbones because it would help me not to have pain from the venous compression,” she said. “I said no, if my body moved that way once, I would move it back. I grew up doing yoga, so I created my own yoga moves to use in bed.”

Then Dr. Collins referred Getsic to Dr. Lawrence Lavine, an osteopathic neurosurgeon in Tacoma. World renowned for his work with sports injuries, Dr. Lavine performed intense osteopathic manipulation of Getsic’s body.

“He saved my life, too,” said Getsic. “He got my body so that I was more functional—less pain, but still many issues and the pain didn’t go away. I had thought I would live the rest of my life in pain.”

In January 2024, Getsic began prolotherapy with Dr. Alex Lloyd at Swedish Hospital Neuroscience and Sports and Spine Clinic. The therapy injects glucose into Getsic’s chest, collarbones, and skull, to stimulate her body’s natural healing process.

She also has benefited from physical and occupational therapy with therapist David Wald at North Sound Hellerwork in Mill Creek, doing pilates and an intensive massage called Hellerwork.

Locally, Getsic credits Nurse Practitioner Christina Jepperson for her continued healing.

“I love her so much, and I am extremely grateful for her. I would not have made it through all the reeling and healing without Christina. She understood my injury and helped me along the way with all of the many referrals, hoops and hurdles, and forming my team of doctors.”

Stand up

On July 26, 2025, Getsic left her wheelchair—mostly. She still uses it sometimes for errands or faraway trips, “or if I’m feeling like I need it. It fluctuates,” she said. “But this glimpse of healing that keeps opening up is way beyond what I expected.”

“What kept me going was my faith, knowing that all of this is happening for a reason, knowing my divine purpose. If I didn’t have the faith that was instilled in me since I was little, I wouldn’t have survived. I pray that I heal completely, and that one day, there is no more pain.

“After the accident, I learned how important trying is. You have to keep trying. I’d rather lose and die than live and not try. This whole comeback thing is so impossible, miraculous, surprising, mysterious, nerve-wracking … all I can do is give it to God. I have no idea what’s going to happen for sure, where or how my trajectory will flow, but faith is guiding.

“Someday I’ll write a book about this.”

Rodleen Getsic in Seattle, 1995, 15 years before the accident that would chart her course for the next 15 years. Photo by Ed Giecek.

Rodleen Getsic in her wheelchair in Aiken, South Carolina, circa 2019, photographed by her husband, Parker Richardson, whom she married in 2018. The couple separated in 2023.

Rodleen Getsic coped with her brainstem pain through her art, such as the piece above. “My teeth felt like they were popping out,” she said of this drawing.

Rodleen Getsic with friend, Rader Sconce, after the funeral for Sconce’s father, Tim Sconce, known locally as Tiny Tim. This photo was taken on July 26, 2025, the same day that Getsic braved the world with no cane. “I had just had three close friends die at once,” said Getsic. “Their energies infused into me.” Photo by Zoë Conners.

Another drawing by Rodleen Getsic as she strove to illustrate her pain.

Rodleen Getsic stands at the Henry Thompson Bridge in Concrete, Washington.

Rodleen Getsic in Concrete Town Center, Concrete, Washington.