Friday, 21 March 2014

A Cold Reception

A Cold Reception

I am happy to report that things are moving along with the treatment of my long-term shoulder problem…
 
A few weeks ago I went to the hospital to see a consultant from the orthopaedic team.
 
I was called into a small curtained booth and a woman rushed in and clipped an x-ray picture of (hopefully) my shoulder onto the light box.
 
While I was waiting I took the opportunity to study it. Apart from marvelling at how thin my arm bones were, I couldn’t help but notice the offending calcification in the shoulder. A glowing white sizeable chunk of chalk in the shape of a tulip.
 
Then the consultant, dressed in a white laboratory coat, breezed in through the curtains and glanced at the x-ray. “Aha! Yes!” he said almost gleefully. “Right, yes, that must be very painful. We’ll give you a steroid injection and see you again in six weeks.”
 
“What now?” I asked with no small degree of alarm in my voice. Surely they would have to have a think about it for a few months.
 
“Yes, now. Take your top off and face that way.” he replied, deftly unwrapping a rather large syringe.
 
A few seconds later and it was all over with.
 
Over the following days, after some initial soreness, it slowly dawned on me that my shoulder didn’t hurt any more. It felt comfortable, wonderfully comfortable. 
 
On top of that, yesterday I had my first physiotherapy session...
 
I walked into the clinic and approached the hatch marked “Reception”.
 
In the room behind the hatch sat a woman who was using scissors to carefully cut up what looked to be a notice of some kind.
 
I waited quietly while she slowly cut along one length.
 
I read a notice next to the hatch “If you are here for a blood test just take a seat.”
 
The woman was still engrossed.
 
I read another notice “If you are here for the Mother and Baby club just take a seat.”
 
I gently crumpled my appointment letter in a non-confrontational bid to attract the woman’s attention.
 
She continued cutting but I noticed her clench her teeth.
 
I coughed quietly.
 
She whipped her head towards me and snapped “Are you here for a blood test?”
 
“Hi, No, I’m…”
 
“Mother and Baby club?” she interrupted.
 
“No, I’m here for a physiotherapy appointment with…”
 
“Just take a seat” she sighed and indicated towards the seats with her scissors.
 
I sat down as directed.
 
A man appeared from a side room and called me in. He was wearing a pilled sweatshirt with a polo shirt beneath. This seems to be a popular uniform these days from zoo keepers to the girl at the local DIY shop.
 
The physiotherapist asked me a series of questions and entered my responses onto his laptop before the phone rang. “Sorry, do you mind if I get this?” he asked.
 
I looked around the room while I waited.
 
I was most encouraged to see a walking stick hanging from the curtain rail, obviously no longer needed I thought.
 
I read a few of the many notices tacked around the room. “Do not lock this door. It is a fire door.” “Wash your hands.” “Sharps only in this bin. No general rubbish.”
 
After the physiotherapist had finished his phone conversation he asked me to move my arms in various directions. “Hmm, that shoulder blade is winging out. The other one is nice and flat. OK we need to give you some exercises to gently build up the muscle in that area.” He said and got up onto the therapy bed on his hands and knees.
 
He showed me a few different manoeuvres. Leaning forward then back then side-to-side. Then lying on his front and lifting his arms back. I watched with interest.
 
“Right, I’ll make another appointment for a few weeks’ time.” He said as he struggled off the couch and lurched towards the desk.
 
“Oh. OK then.” I said, clearly a note of disappointment in my voice.
 
“Would you like me to draw the exercises for you?”
 
I thought that I would remember them but said that I would indeed like a drawing and watched while he drew stick figures and arrows.
 
I thanked him, and made another appointment before leaving.
 
The receptionist was pinning up another notice next to her hatch. I didn’t bother to read it.

Wednesday, 12 February 2014

The Reluctant Expert

The Reluctant Expert

Although you may feel as though you’re not very good at something, others may feel differently…
 
I was recently approached by a fellow violinist:
 
Violinist: “You are a bit of an expert on the violin aren’t you?”
 
Me: “Me? No. No, definitely not.”
 
Violinist: “Oh, I think you are.”
 
Me: “No, really I’m not.”
 
Violinist: “Do you mind if I ask for your expert opinion on how to play this piece?”
 
Me: “I’ll try to help if I can.”
 
Violinist: “Great, thank you so much. Right, this bit here. I find it hard to get the right note using my forth finger and you’re not supposed to use an open string are you?”
 
Me: “I think the open string would be best.”
 
Violinist: “No! you’re not supposed to.”
 
Me: “Well sometimes it’s best not to. It depends on the music. This bit here is forte and it’s a lively piece so you’d get a nice bright tone with the open string. The forth finger would sound more muted.”
 
Violinist: “You see, I didn’t know that. You are definitely an expert. Right this bit here. You don’t mind if I pick your brains do you?”
 
Me: “No, go on.”
 
Violinist: “Right. This bit here. I need to use my third finger on the E string and then my third finger on the A string straight after. It’s just too fast and I can’t do it that quickly. It’s impossible to lift my finger up and down at that speed. How would you do it?”
 
Me: “Well, I would probably roll it across to the other string.”
 
Violinist: “Roll it across? Show me.”
 
I showed him what I meant and he tried to do the same.
 
Violinist: “No! You see. That’s no good. I can’t do it!”
 
Me: “I think it’s because you might be gripping the neck too tightly.”
 
Violinist: “No. It’s because I’m not an expert like you.”
 
Me: “Really, I’m not.”
 
Violinist: “Yes you ARE!”
 
Me: “You could put your third finger between the strings.”
 
Violinist: “No, it will get stuck. Look.”
 
Me: “Hmm, you don’t have to wedge it between the strings like that. Just place it gently across the top of both strings.”
 
Violinist: “Gently?”
 
Me: “Yes, gently but firmly.”
 
Violinist: “Like this? Wow!! It works!! That is brilliant! OK right. Now this bit. Now I KNOW you’ll know the answer to this. Are you sure you don’t mind me pestering you?”
 
Me: “No. Not at all. Go on.”
 
Violinist: “Right, where is it? Ah yes. Here. Would you play that in third position?”
 
Me: “Erm. No. Probably not. You can play all that in first position.”
 
Violinist: “Really? You would play that all in first position? No. I don’t think that’s right. Surely the objective is to minimise the amount of string crossings.”
 
Me: “Well, maybe. Can you play it in third and then get back quickly enough?”
 
Violinist: “No. Well I CAN do it at home but it’s harder here at full speed and it’s out of tune when I shift back.”
 
Me: “And you can do it quickly enough all in first position?”
 
Violinist: “Yes, but I have to minimise string crossings don’t I?”
 
Me: “That would be ideal I suppose, but really, when you’re playing with everyone else, it’s all about survival isn’t it?”
 
Violinist: “Survival?”
 
Me: “Yes, survival. Getting through it in the best way you can under the conditions you’re under, even if it’s not the perfect and most elegant way.”
 
Violinist: “Like life?”
 
Me: “Yes, like life. Exactly.”
 
Violinist: “Thank you, you’ve been really helpful. It’s great to talk to an expert on these things.”
 
Me: “But… That’s ok. You’re welcome.”
 
“Try to help others. Consult their weaknesses, relieve their maladies; strive to raise them up, and by so doing you will most effectually raise yourself up also.” ~Joseph Barber Lightfoot~

Wednesday, 29 January 2014

Tempo Fugit

Tempo Fugit

A very important role of the conductor is setting the tempo, the timing of the piece that the orchestra must adhere to…
 
We are told that the timing is often more important than the notes (luckily).
 
Even if you are stumbling and scrambling to play the notes, you must not slow down, ever, it is not permitted.
 
If you falter, your eyes must leap forward and you must somehow find a way to dive back into the music at full speed.
 
Everyone plays at exactly the same speed and that is what keeps the orchestra together as a cohesive unit.
 
That is what ensures that the notes weave expertly between each other.
 
That is what makes it sound like music rather than a chaotic jumble of sounds – everyone strictly obeying the conductor’s tempo.
 
Sometimes though, something strange and mysterious happens...
 
The tempo slows down, the whole orchestra slows down and the conductor slows down. Then it speeds up to the original tempo again.
 
More often than not, nothing is said about this peculiar phenomenon. Sometimes however, something is said; inevitably by someone who has the unenviable task of counting thirty nine bars of rests until they are called upon to play again.
 
Bored musician: “Erm… I think it slowed down from bar 168 to bar 174.”
 
Maestro: “Yes, you’re absolutely right, it did.”
 
Bored musician: “But there is nothing to say that it should. There is no rallentando marked there.”
 
Maestro: “You’re right, there isn’t a rallentando there.”
 
Bored musician: “But you were conducting more slowly.”
 
Maestro: “Yes, I was, because the whole orchestra slowed down.”
 
Bored musician: “But you should keep the tempo.”
 
Maestro: “Yes, I suppose I should, but there is no point if the whole orchestra slows down.”
 
Bored musician: “Well why does the whole orchestra slow down? They should be following you.”
 
Maestro: “I’ll tell you why. It’s because they are actually listening to each other and responding to what they hear. That’s what makes the difference between a good orchestra and a great orchestra.”
 
Bored musician: “But...”
 
Maestro: “BEGINNING!”
 
“Change begins with understanding and understanding begins by identifying oneself with another person: in a word, empathy. The arts enable us to put ourselves in the minds, eyes, ears and hearts of other human beings.” ~ Richard Eyre~

Friday, 24 January 2014

A Pain In The Neck

A Pain In The Neck

I wrote some time ago about having neck, shoulder and elbow problems...
 
I went to the doctor about it almost three months ago at the beginning of November.
 
Things are moving along.
 
Since the doctor’s appointment I have had an x-ray, spoken to the doctor on the phone and had a meeting with a very nice ‘triage’ woman early in December.
 
“Right, let’s have a look at your x-ray.” She said and clicked around on her computer. “Oh, it’s not here. Where did you have it taken?” she asked.
 
Apparently, although only a few miles away, the hospital was in a different district and she didn’t have access to their files.
 
We were both disappointed as it would have been quite useful to her for planning the necessary treatment.
 
Fortunately she was able to use creative imagination and a plastic skeleton to demonstrate the possible problem and propose the way forward; physiotherapy and a consultation with the orthopaedic team.
 
She told me that one would phone me and one would write to me. I can’t remember which was which.
 
So, while I am eagerly awaiting further contact, life goes on with manageable discomfort.
 
Yesterday I went to the hairdressers and was directed as usual to the dreaded backwash:

“Could you put YOUR head back for me please?”

I carefully put my head back.

She washed my hair vigorously and by the time she asked if I was “having conditioner today” my neck had had enough and I declined.

“Could you put YOUR head forward for me?”

With no small effort I put my head forward. She rubbed the back of my hair and I heard that ‘still soapy’ sound.

“Could you put YOUR head back again for me?”

I obliged and she did the necessary further rinsing.

“Could you put YOUR head forward for me?”

I creakily put it forward and she placed a towel on the edge of the sink.

“Could you put YOUR head back for me?”

I gritted my teeth; put my head back again and she rubbed it manically with a towel.

“Can you put YOUR head forward again for me.”

I was getting rather agitated by this torture but managed to heave my head forward to the upright position.

She placed another towel on the edge of the sink. I knew what was happening now. This was the finale where she loosely wraps the towel around my head before leading me to sit looking at myself in the mirror. Looking at myself and acknowledging that my head wrapped in a damp towel with a corner hanging over one eye is not my best look. Not my best look but a little better than the woman next to me with silver flaps stuck to her head and sheepishly reading a magazine.

“Could you put YOUR head back again for me?”

“Actually, no, I can’t.” I replied “I’ve got a bad neck. I can’t be putting it backwards and forwards like this all the time.” My words came out surprisingly more harshly than I had expected.

She struggled awkwardly across the backwash to ineffectually wrap the towel around my head.

“Would you come over to THIS chair for me? Would you like a coffee?”

“No thank you.” I replied as I sat down and, with my unobscured eye, regarded my grumpy little face in the mirror and wondered when I would hear from the orthopaedic team.

“The two enemies of human happiness are pain and boredom.” ~Arthur Schopenhauer~

Tuesday, 21 January 2014

Beethoven's Sympathy No. 3

Beethoven's Sympathy No. 3

It’s pretty much impossible to listen to Beethoven whilst at work…
 
My boss: “Can you turn that down please?”
 
Me: “OK, sorry”
 
My boss: “You didn’t have to turn it off.”
 
Me: “I didn’t; it’s a quiet section.”
 
My boss: “Well you can turn it up a bit.”
 
Me: “It’s ok like this.”
 
My boss: “Wow! Turn it down; you’ve turned it up too high.”
 
Me: “I didn’t change it; it’s a loud section.”
 
My boss: “Well it wasn’t that loud before, turn it down.”
 
Me: “OK.”
 
My boss: “Now I can’t hear it at all.”
 
Me: “It’s quiet now - piano.”
 
My boss: “Piano? I can’t hear one. What’s with the posh voice all of a sudden?”
 
Me: “Piano means quiet.”
 
My boss: “Right. Why does it keep going loud then quiet? Is it a bad recording?”
 
Me: “Dynamics. It’s supposed to make it more textured and interesting.”
 
My boss: “Textured and interesting? It just makes me jump.”
 
Me: “That’s another reason too. To keep the audience awake.”
 
My boss: “Well I don’t want to be kept awake. I’m at work.”
 
Me: “OK I’ll turn it off. Sorry.”
 
Roll over Beethoven.