We were lucky to catch up with Sullivan Martin recently and have shared our conversation below.

Sullivan, looking forward to hearing all of your stories today. What were some of the most unexpected problems you’ve faced in your career and how did you resolve those issues?

One night I had tickets to the Steelers game. Before the game a group of us met at one of our friends’ apartments. The usual pre-game atmosphere, beer pong, a few joints, and some music. It was all going well when I started to feel extremely tired and my throat started to get scratchy. I had just closed A Christmas Carol and smoked a joint, maybe I’m just a little run down I thought. A few minutes went by and I felt myself just getting more tired and my body started to ache. I knew that I was getting sick but still tried to push through. It is the Steelers afterall, that’s a sacred ritual you don’t miss.
Well, I missed it. I had gone to an urgent care instead of the game and my fever was over a hundred and I felt horrible. That next morning was Dec. 23rd and I could barely move. My room was too cold at the time so I was sleeping on the couch. My roommate and best friend at the time Dan, picked me up some Dayquill and soup. He’s always been one of my ride or dies.
I slept through the night and woke up to barely a voice and glass in my throat. It was Christmas Eve. My parents picked me up because I couldn’t drive anywhere. They took me to another urgent care. This practitioner said that I should go to the hospital because she doesn’t think it’s the flu. My father rushed me over to the nearest hospital which was Ohio Valley General. It’s nicknamed Death Valley for a reason. That hospital was known for mistakes and bad patient care but it was closest to my family home. The doctor barely asked me any questions, just felt my throat, chalked it up as an infection and gave me some Amoxicillin. We drove back to my parents and I layed in the upstairs bedroom. My father even asked me to do the toast because I did it every year. Why would this year be any different? I crawled downstairs, sat in the corner 15 feet away from everyone else, croaked out the toast and crawled back up to take a warm bath.
After I got out of the bath, I couldn’t get warm again and my voice was all but gone. My throat felt like it was closing in on itself and it started getting very hard to breathe. I crawled down the steps in pajamas and a hoodie, called my mother over and said, “Take me back to the hospital, I’ve never been this sick.”
My father drove me, back to Death Valley. We refused to see the same doctor and asked for someone else. They processed me quickly and a new doctor looked and felt my throat. He said,”I know what this is and we can’t treat it here. You’re going downtown.”
WIthin minutes I was strapped to a gurney and placed in the back of an ambulance. Lights, sirens, driving 80 mph, the whole deal. Ya know, I’ve done some very scary things in my life but I’d never felt so helpless. As a matter of fact, the only thing I could equate this too was a kayaking incident I had a few years later, where I got recycled in a rapid several times. Breathing was practically impossible, gasping for air through a coffee straw is better way of describing it. My own body was choking me to death. I heard the poor EMT woman say, “Please stop squeezing my wrist.” I had no idea I was even doing it. My whole body was in panic mode trying to keep itself alive. I forced out an, “I’m sorry, please don’t let me die.” over and over I said it. Begging for my life to be saved, I’m not proud of that. We watch these films, where someone is bravely accepting their death and gracefully passing away. Well, life isn’t like that. The moment my hand released her arm and clasped the cold steal railing of the gurney, felt like I was letting go of existence. Like how an Astronaut might feel if their safety line was cut during a space walk. That feeling of helplessness, unsure whether I would live or die, monopolized every second I was in that ambulance.The little oxygen mask they had over my face was doing nothing. Imagine struggling for air for hours without any relief.
Once we got to the ER, they wheeled me through several sets of plastic curtains. I’ve been to the ER many times…you go through security, then you wait to check-in and explain to the lady at the window why you’re there, then sit and wait to be seen…not this time, this was the TRAUMA BAY….the real ER, the YOU”RE GONNA FUCKING DIE ER.
My mother, father, and sister were all standing in the walkway watching them unstrap me and take my vitals. One of the doctors came over with a clipboard and said if you want us to treat you, you have to sign this. I had the gull to actually ask what it was, I blame my dad for instilling the skepticism gene in me. The doctor said, “ This says we have permission to do what is necessary to save your life, and nobody can sue us if anything happens.” I grabbed the pen and signed it. Then the DR says “Now tell your family you love them and say goodbye, we’re taking you back.”
My mother and sister looked even more defeated and helpless than I did. My father was holding both of them while they cried and told me they loved me. He stayed strong but the look on his face, I could tell he wasn’t sure what was going to happen either.
They wheeled me through several sets of doors and into a room that was completely tiled with that ugly hospital green color and filled with chrome machinery. The top of the room was 15 ft above my head, wreathed in observation windows that were filled with people in white coats armed with clipboards. I was the headliner for the evening. Honestly, I didn’t feel like a person at that moment. My existence was now just a puzzle for medical professionals.
The Doctor said,”Ok Michael. We will be putting you to sleep for a while. This straw will be inserted in your nose and you will go unconscious. A nice big exhale, then inhale through the nose and count back from 100.” I relished in what I thought could be my last moments alive. “If this is how I go, so be it.” There it was, the courage I thought I had lost. Bring it on, death, you fucking bitch!” I know that sounds like exaggeration but the fear left me for that brief moment and I smiled.
I don’t even remember counting. 4 days had passed by and it felt like 4 seconds. I had no recollection of the procedure. All I remember is waking up, unable to move or speak, my best friend yelling, “Mike, whats up buddy?” Dan’s a goofball and I love him.

Sullivan, before we move on to more of these sorts of questions, can you take some time to bring our readers up to speed on you and what you do?

I was born into a world of calloused hands and early mornings, where hard work was measured in sweat and sacrifice. My father welded steel, my mother nurtured life, and I was expected to follow suit. But deep down, I knew my future wasn’t in powerplants or paychecks—it was in stories, in characters, in the pulse of an audience hanging on every word.
Defiance was in my DNA. At 11, I begged to go to theater school. My father’s response was a cold, “You can’t do that.” To me, that sounded like a challenge. By 15, I was proving him wrong, touring the country with a musical theater troupe, performing in stadiums and festivals. Turns out, the only thing better than proving my father wrong was proving myself right. But at 18, I made a mistake—I listened to my fathers doubt. I chose business school over my dreams, lasted a semester, and walked away with nothing but regret. I felt lost and confused. Like Dumbo after tripping on his own ears, ruining the performance, and being painted as a clown.
Lost and searching, I found my next high in freestyle skiing. The mountains became my escape, every new trick felt like leveling up to a higher existence. I trained obsessively, won competitions, and pushed my body past its limits. But the sport evolved faster than my injuries could heal, and by 26, I had to face a truth I didn’t want to admit: my time on the slopes was over. That realization sent me spiraling. I numbed the pain with booze, drugs, and reckless abandon. Rock bottom wasn’t a single moment—it was a slow, steady fall, until I woke up one day in a hospital bed, skull fractured, eyes swollen shut, and no idea how I’d let myself get there.
That was my crossroads. Either I became what I’d always fought against, or I take one final shot at something that I’m truly passionate about. The next morning, I applied to three universities in the Pittsburgh area. Robert Morris accepted me into their theater program, and I grabbed onto it like a lifeline.
Then life threw me another test. In the middle of A Christmas Carol, my body gave out. What I thought was just the flu landed me in an ambulance, gasping for breath, being told to say my goodbyes before an emergency procedure. I woke up four days later, a whisper of myself, barely strong enough to speak. Lying in that hospital bed, watching Star Wars for comfort, I had a revelation—this was actually my second chance. I wasn’t going to waste it. I threw myself into acting with everything I had. Pittsburgh gave me a start, but I needed more. More training, bigger opportunities, higher stakes. The New School wasn’t my first choice, but New York had a way of making things feel meant to be. The first two years were lightning in a bottle—right place, right time, right people. Then reality and COVID hit hard. I lost my agent. I got chewed up by the service industry. I auditioned relentlessly and booked nothing. But I’m determined. Like Charles Bukowski said, “You have to die a few times before you can really live.”

We’d love to hear your thoughts on NFTs. (Note: this is for education/entertainment purposes only, readers should not construe this as advice)

I chose this question because #1 I did not expect it. #2 I’ve followed blockchain/crypto for a while now and recognize that there is so much untapped potential with that tech. I also lost big on NFTs back in 2021 but it’s still art and I love the few that I still own.

What’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative in your experience?

EMPATHY! I used to have very ignorant, shallow views on some issues. Through art, I’ve opened myself up to other peoples cultures and journeys. Theatre has changed my outlook on humanity and provided perspective on the conditioning and indoctrination of my own upbringing.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://sullymartin.com
• Instagram: the_sullymartin

Image Credits

Jeffrey Mosier, Nathaniel Johnston, Brian S. Osmand