You might assume that the title of this post, “Still Alive,” refers to the Covid 19 pandemic, but it doesn’t.
I have been thinking about how lucky I am to still be alive.
Eileen had some good luck this week with her pain clinic appointment. They were surprised that she was still suffering so much. They reassessed their diagnosis. As I understand it, there is some arthritic inflammation in her spinal cord that is causing the nerve to be pinched. After a lengthy discussion they ended up giving her six shots which provided some instant relief.
Of course, she is still sore and having some pain, but it has ebbed significantly.
My hands are getting worse. I noticed yesterday that my left hand just barely can stretch an octave due to my Dupuytren’s (du-pwe-TRANZ) contracture. I can still compensate and continue to play keyboard, guitar, and banjo. I spent some time with Scarlatti at the piano and the upcoming guitar pieces I have scheduled. This did not lessen my sadness, but at least proved that I can still put myself in the presence of beauty.
I was surprised that this depressed me as much as it did.
I have had a matter of fact reaction to this diagnosis. I assumed that my many other interests would balance off the loss of the ability to play well. Those other interests are what I am spending a lot of my days doing recently. I have been reading and studying Dante. Philip Larkin and William Blake seems to be just what the Trump mania/pandemic needs. Or at least what I need.
As I said, I am still alive and that is lucky.