Lenny and me

Last month all the public radio stations seemed to be celebrating what would have been Leonard Berstein’s 100th birthday. It got me thinking of my fifteen minutes of interaction with Lenny - yes, he really told me to call him Lenny.

It was in the spring of 1980 and I was doing advance work for Jimmy Carter’s reelection bid. I had just returned from coordinating a fundraiser in Jacksonville, FL and I got a call from the Office of Protocol asking if I would escort Eubie Blake to an award ceremony in the DC area, where he was to receive one of the three George Peabody Medals being given that year. I’m not sure why they wanted me but I figured it was because I knew a bit about jazz. My neighbor Jack Lucas, a real jazz expert, was amazed that I was going to meet Eubie Blake and he gave me a two-day seminar - complete with recordings, articles and books - so that I would be up to speed. 

Protocol laid on a limo for me - well, a limo for Eubie - and I collected him at the Jefferson Hotel and we went to the venue where the award ceremony was to take place.  Mr. Blake, as I called him until he gave me permission to call him Eubie, was about 94 or so and confined to a wheelchair, but his mind was sharp and he was full of life.  We got to the theater and went in via the stage entrance and were taken right to the Green Room to wait for the program to start. Just minutes before I was to take him to the stage, the door opened and this whirlwind of energy popped in with a mop of silver hair and feline moves and grabbed the wheelchair and said to Eubie, “let’s get this done.”  Just like that, Leonard Bernstein (who was also receiving a Peabody) and Eubie were out of the Green Room and onto the stage and I was standing there in amazement.

After the ceremony there was a fancy reception and I was once more in charge of taking care of Eubie. I asked if he wanted to go back to the hotel since he looked a bit tired but he insisted on going to the reception and meeting and greeting. After about twenty minutes we were making our way towards the exit when we passed a gaggle of people surrounding Leonard Bernstein and we heard this distinctive voice shout, “Not so fast, Eubie, there are a lot of folks here who want to meet you.”  The crowd parted and I pushed Eubie over to Mr. Bernstein who was telling the people, “this is a real American treasure and you are so lucky to have a chance to meet him ...” at which point everyone started to fawn over Eubie. 

I took a few steps back and The Voice came from behind and asked, “Who are you and why are you here with Eubie?”  I wanted to be a wiseass and say that he was my y grandfather, but simply told the truth and told him my name was William Byxbee. He repeated my name two times and said, “What a wonderful name, not like Lenny Bernstein, which seems so ordinary.”  I said, “Mr. Bernstein, you are far from ordinary!” It was then that he said, “You must call me Lenny.”  We chatted a bit longer before the crowds came back to him, and then Eubie and I said our goodbyes and I returned him to the hotel. 

And that was my fifteen minutes with Lenny and my three hours with Eubie, all and all a rather special evening.

Patient Update II

Cindy had her first exam since the surgery and everything is looking very good.  They took a  few x-rays and the bones are where they’re supposed to be and they were able to take off the big cast and she is now in a small wrist brace that will give her much more mobility.  She is still not able to lift or touch anything with her right hand, but she can take the brace off to shower and she can now move her arm at the elbow since she only needs the sling when she goes out  to walk or interact. 

She needs to start intensive physical therapy twice a week starting on Monday, which means that we’ll not be able to salvage any part of the planned three weeks in Europe.  While that is very disappointing, we just don’t want to do anything that might jeopardize her complete recovery.  The doctor thought we were mad to even consider the trip what with the double whammy of a stress fracture in her left foot and her shattered right wrist. I’m in cancellation mode; trains, planes, hotels and car services.  Gives me something to do while Cindy naps, which I make her do every afternoon. Her next appointment is in three weeks and we are hoping with the PT and her own exercise routine that she’ll be much more flexible and that the healing will have really started to take place. I’ve a couple of photos of her arm and scar that we could see for the first time once they took off the cast. It is amazing how the arm shrunk, no exercise can really do a number on the body.

Not much else to report, but all seems to be on track for a complete recover, it will just take a lot of time, much more that any of us realized.   More later,  William

Wither thou goeth

ET call Home

My Favorite Mummy

Ode to Wm

I wish I were a poet, alas I am not - so here is my narrative about what is going on here in Charles Town.  It’s one thing to learn to do things with my left hand that I usually do with my right hand (the wrist I broke), but it is astounding to me how many things in life require two hands. I am not even referring to the obvious things such as folding laundry or washing dishes, but rather tasks that one would think could be managed with one hand. Opening all manner of bottles, containers, and jars; dressing (try putting on socks with one hand), putting my hair into a ponytail or bun, inserting and removing contact lenses, cutting food or anything else, tying shoes, the list goes on. These are not skills that improve with practice, these are skills that are truly impossible with one hand. The only thing I have mastered - and I am so proud - is applying Chapstick. I can flip off the cap, apply the stick to my lips, and flip the cap back on with one seemingly fluid motion.  <grin>

The above list might seem long but it is just a taste of the things I cannot do - and as you must have guessed, this has meant that William has had to do all of the above tasks either for me or with me every day, often multiple times per day.  I am not complaining, just explaining what a (temporary) life-changer this is been for him. He has been ever so patient and has spent so much time with me.  He will be the first to admit he is a bit squeamish about the contact lenses, but otherwise he is an able and willing and loving volunteer.  Good thing he was already in charge of the cooking and shopping, but I actually used to do things like the dishes and laundry, and he is doing everything with nary a word of complaint.  

In addition, Megan has been phenomenally supportive with her inspiration and comforting words as well as advice about meds and pain management and other details. She is wise beyond her years and I have appreciated all of her communication and encouragement so much.  By the way, she is doing extremely well with maintenance, and we are all thrilled.  It is true that she benefits from the best care and treatment available, but she wouldn’t be where she is without her fabulous attitude and approach to life.

As for my sorry wrist, thank goodness this is all temporary and I’m not sure who is more eager to get beyond it!  In the meantime, Wm deserves high praise, very high praise.  He did not want to include this in the blog, but I overruled him (how strange is that?!).  Thanks for all the good wishes and lovely cards that many of you have sent. I am thrilled that I can manage email by talking into my device so I don’t feel entirely cut off.

Sending love and good wishes back to you,

Cindy

ccemmans@yahoo.com 

Patient Update

Cindy spent as comfortable a weekend as possible with a little help from her small blue friends.  Last night was a good one in terms of more sleep and less discomfort, and we hope it just keeps getting better and better.  The swelling has gone down quite a bit and her fingers look more like breakfast sausages as opposed to bratwurst (as they did after surgery). She is doing her finger and thumb wiggling exercises to be sure to keep all of them moving and limber. Best of all, her spirits are high and she has a good appetite - which challenges me daily to get the healthiest and tastiest food into her as possible. Since she really can’t drink, I’ve taken up the slack!

During my time at the hospital while she was in surgery, I explored the place and finally found a quiet lounge on the third floor that was empty the entire three hours.  Seems that this lounge used to be the main lounge for friends and family of those in surgery and last month they moved the lounge to be closer to the actual OR but they haven’t gotten around to closing the one on the third floor.  The window in the lounge overlooks the main entrance to the hospital so I could watch as people were discharged.  I can report - without fear of being incorrect - that the first thing that at least 60% of all folks being discharged did when they got in the car was to light up a cigarette!  The first few times I saw this I was shocked, but it happened time and time again.  Oh, almost 100% did NOT use their seatbelts!  The good folks in Charles Town like to live dangerously.

Speaking of which, after having been at the hospital for three hours, I was getting a little hungry so went to the cafeteria to see what was on offer.  Last year, while being with Megan at Moffitt Hospital in Tampa, I had occasion to go to their cafeteria to get something for Megan and something for me. Their cafeteria was more like a luxury cruise ship buffet: carving stations, omelet station, a fresh sushi bar, a real grill where you could get anything you wanted - from juicy hamburgers to three kinds of ribs - and all the sides you could imagine.  The cafeteria at our local hospital was more like the remains of a cooler after three days on a canoe trip. There were multicolored - perhaps various shades of brown would be more like it - meats, meats that seriously could not be identified. The eggs were obviously powdered, there were cubes of something that said French Toast, and of course, grits:  cheese grits, sausage grits and grits with redeye gravy. I went in hungry and left without an appetite having only ordered a coffee, which was free so I’m not going to say anything about that.  (Note from the patient: Anesthesia has more advantages than I realized.)

As you might remember, we were scheduled to depart for Nice on Wednesday. That has been cancelled since there is no way we are going anywhere for at least two weeks when the doctor will again look at Cindy’s wrist and either clear us for travel or not. 

I’ve had to cancel two air reservations, one to get to Nice and the other to get from Nice to Brussels. Let me tell you, it is time consuming and nasty.  Royal Air Maroc might refund Cindy’s ticket when they process the letter from the doctor and my ‘forceful’ email, but they will not give me a full refund or even a credit.  They will charge me a cancellation fee of 250 euros since there is nothing wrong with my wrist and, as they say, you are free to travel!!  Same with Brussels Air, they might give Cindy a credit, but they will only refund me THREE Euros on a 150 Euro ticket!!  There is a cancellation fee, a service fee, a fee fee, and on and on it goes.  Oh, how I despise these folks.  I thought that having purchased a full fare business class ticket would have had some clout, but I was wrong.

 When we had to cancel our flight to Paris last fall when Megan was in treatment, United Airlines - whom I have at times had negative thoughts about - were only too happy to credit our entire fare for one year and periodically would send a note asking as to Megan’s progress. When I called them to rebook for this December, the reservationist again asked how Megan was doing.  Sometimes they just get it right!

Well, back to the patient, who is napping so as to allow me time to get a fresh salmon dinner organized.  Some really good news is that she is no longer taking the opiods for pain, a very positive step forward! 

More later in the week. I’ll say it again, many thanks for all your positive energy regarding Cindy’s wellbeing.  She feels it!

William

If you want to write directly to her, it is ccemmans@yahoo.com. Or reply to me and copy her.  

Bad Breaks

What an exhilarating few days we have had here in West Virginia. We finally secured an appointment with a surgeon on Wednesday. (Helpful hint: Don’t break anything on the Saturday of a three day weekend.) Our appointment was at 2pm and we arrive on schedule. The waiting room was rather full and after about forty minutes, it became apparent that everyone there was waiting to see the same doctor.  Seems some emergency had taken place and he was running hours behind schedule.  These things happen, but since the front desk staff knew about it, we all wondered why no one told us. 

When we finally got in, Cindy’s doctor thought she had a knee problem until he realized he was in the wrong room. When he came back he thought Cindy was there to have her stress fracture looked at, an honest mistake, until he saw her limp wrist and swollen fingers.  Finally he looked at the right x-rays and said that it was a messy set of breaks and that he would have to insert a titanium plate and then try to connect all the bone fragments with pins to the plate. I’m sure he said a lot more but I was practically passed out by then. (I’m not good with things like injuries and blood.)

He scheduled the surgery for today and told us to go to the hospital on Thursday to pre-register and get a ‘few’ tests done. It turned out that those few tests included an EKG, Chest X-Ray, Urine sample and two vials of blood to be tested for god knows what. This involved another lovely two hours at the hospital, where everyone was genuinely nice and kind but no one could really say why all those tests were required to set a broken wrist!  When it was all done we had an exit interview with a really wonderful guy who asked all the necessary questions and was witty and intelligent. We liked him a lot, especially when we found out he taught Music at San Jose State, but disliked him as soon as he said we had to be at the hospital at 0630 the following morning.

At 0dark hundred hours this morning I was up and getting ready by the glow of a night light in the bathroom. Cindy had not slept well and was up at 4am for meds and was now sleeping soundly so I wanted her to get as much rest as possible. At six I woke her, helped her dress and we were on the road at 0620 and arrived at exactly 0630. We were taken back immediately, it was just the two of us, a night watchman and a few nurses. They prepared Cindy for the surgery, checking her vitals and once again asking all of the same questions they had asked the day before.  At 0745 she was wheeled away to the OR and I was given a little card that had a number that represented Cindy. The waiting room has a screen where all the numbers are listed and it is color coded so as to let you know where she is in the process.

Cindy was under the knife for three hours and finally her status on the board changed to post op, which I had been told would last for twenty minutes until they took her to recovery. Her doctor, who we both really like, came to talk with me and said that all had gone very, very well. There was much that had to be done but he felt very good about how it all went and that her recovery would be faster then he originally had thought. All wonderful news!

Cindy is resting now, having been able to eat some scrambled eggs and toast and half a banana. She is one tough cookie and I am confident that she’ll be up and about by the end of the weekend.  Let me thank all of you who have written to Cindy. It makes a big difference and she is very lucky to have such good friends.  

Here is a picture that while not capturing her native beauty, certainly captures her essence. (Who knew that the surgeons would throw in a free tattoo!    Best wishes,  William (Cindy could not edit this so all horrible things herein are my fault!)

That is a thumb up, I think!

Fitness is BAD for your Health

Since I’ve known Cindy - almost forty years now - she has been a fitness enthusiast.  She ran the Grandma’s Marathon in Minnesota in 1978 and has been running ever since. No matter where in the world we are, she runs and runs.  Until last June - when she was found to have a stress fracture in her foot and was told to not run until it healed. So she listened to her doctor’s advice (she’s an enthusiast, not a nut) and started to ride a bike, do floor exercises and continue her upper body strength with chin-ups using a secured bar in our dressing room closet doorway.  That was great until today!

Early this morning we were getting ready to exercise and pack for our trip to Greensboro, NC to spend the last few days of summer with dear friends.  I was about to go out the door for my walk when I heard a gut-wrenching shout from Cindy. I ran back in and she was sitting on the stairs, white as a ghost and sweating profusely.  The bar had separated from the wall mounts while she was at the top of her chin-up. Down she went, breaking her fall with her right arm, and she was in terrible pain. We hastily grabbed our medical cards and IDs and headed for the ER in our local hospital. We were there in ten minutes and in fifteen she was being ushered into a triage room where the staff began to treat her.  Four hours later we left with Cindy’s wrist, having been broken in two places, in a cast and instructions to get some Oxycodone and make sure to rest. (I’ll spare you the play by play of pain, first getting a ring off her finger that was terribly swollen, and then the fiasco of the team trying to pull and prod her wrist into position before they immobilized it. Yikes.)

She will need to have surgery to pin everything back together but we can’t even make an appointment do anything until Tuesday ... Happy Labor Day!!

She is a trooper and never lets anything get her down, but I’ve never seen her in such pain and it has lasted all day long. Finally, now at 7:30 pm, she is able to eat something and sit up and her color has returned - but goodness, what a long time to suffer.  We are optimistic that she’ll be able to get her surgery done by Wednesday or Thursday and then begin the long process of healing. Luckily all of her orchestra sessions are over for now since her bowing arm won’t be functional for months.

How was your Labor Day??

PS  Living in West Virginia, the epicenter of the opioid crisis in the USA, we hear a lot about how pills like Oxycodone are flooding the black market and can be sold for $40 to $80 a pill.  Cindy’s prescription was for 15 pills and it cost us 33 cents! You can see how someone might be tempted to make a little money on a relative’s prescription.