The Hirts: Lucy and Charles

The publication of an article about one of my main mentors, Charles Hirt, in the recent Choral Journal got me to thinking and reminiscing a bit.  I'm quoted twice in the article, both quotes from a presentation in 1996 where I was asked to introduce him.  I got to know him well, finally, after coming to USC in 1992, twenty-three years after leaving grad school at USC.  I went over to his home in Glendale many times and visited him before his death in 2001.

But the best part of seeing him again was to get to know his wife Lucy for the first time, really.  After his death, I still went to see Lucy quite a bit; she was always dressed beautifully and I always mixed our drinks at the little bar in their little den: vodka tonic for her, scotch for me.  She was a francophone and francophile of the first order, a superb musician, a wonderful conductor, a great organizer, and an extremely intelligent woman.  She was also charming as could be in the Olde Worlde sense; charming, yes; stuffy, no.

She wanted so much for Charles' work to be more recognized than it was, and donated all of his papers to ACDA immediately after his death.  That donation has finally borne fruit but far too late for her to see it.  I am glad that some recognition has finally come and hope it continues: Believe me, compared with that man, many of today's current famous 'giants' are midgets in comparison. I'll be 70 in a month; I can say that now. (So, Shawna Stewart, finish that treatise and publish the sucker. OK?)

One of the things of which I am most proud is what Lucy thought of my book Chorus Confidential.  Upon reading it, she wrote me this letter.  It is my favorite 'review.' It is one of my most treasured possessions.

Charles Hirt Photos, Choral Journal, ACDA -- August 2012

Post Parisian Report

We had a great two weeks with Erin's parents in London, Normandy (Bayeux and D-day beaches) and Paris (via Chunnel).  I had been to all, but it was fun to see it with the others.  We had a full week in Paris and I fell in love with the city for the first time, really: other visits had been on tours, where I was working.  Hotel breakfasts were great, lunches in brasseries were fun, and dinners in cafes and restaurants were often exquisite (I had some of the best foix gras of my life).  Dang.  Patti got to go up the Eiffel (after a three-hour wait) and Gene got to see a match on center court of the French Open at Roland-Garros.  Erin's plan and guiding worked beautifully and we had a minimum of drama (except when she drove back into Paris from Normandy and had to negotiate the Mother of All Roundabouts, the Arc de Triomphe).  And I got to see the Musee D'Orsay for the first time: gorgeous re-do of an old train station and a killer collection of Impressionist painting.

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I got around quite well, really.  I abandoned the walker in Green Bay and took just the Lofstrand crutches and a traveling wheelchair.  I was in the wheelchair for longer, smoother surfaces and in museums and the like, but I negotiated cobblestones, curbs, stairs in stations and brasseries (both for toilets) with confidence, if not aplomb.  And while the others were out waiting for the Eiffel, I walked alone from the hotel two Parisian blocks to a great Italian restaurant, where I enjoyed not only the food but speaking a language that is far more comfortable for me than French (everyone there was Italian).

All of which is to say, by way of condition report, that I am using crutches solely (which is only a problem getting up out of chairs without arms), and can even carry coffee from the kitchen through the dining room to my desk using just one crutch.  I have never had a fall--akhbar Allah--so I have made considerable progress in the six months since my post-surgical wheelchair days.  The next steps are one crutch, then a cane, then nothing.  I hope to walk unassisted in the New Year. My physical therapy is going well--they are all pleased, in fact have now reduced me from three days to two days/week--and many who haven't seen me in a while are surprised by my improved mobility.

Not bad for a guy who has had a severely wounded spinal cord, is technically an "incomplete paraplegic," and who attains the biblical three-score-and-ten in two months.

Children, Woman and Dog still love me.  Things could sure be worse.

A Little Politics; A Little Pride

I thought that I had exhausted my revulsion and contempt for politicians who want to re-enslave women and make them mere property again, slightly more important than the family pet, but barely.  But no, I just heard about the new laws passed in Arizona. The way old, white, privileged men (read: Republican) continue to harass and, literally, get up a woman's vagina all the way to her uterus renews my disgust.  I simply do not understand the necessity for making women second class citizens at best.  Again.  I would appreciate anyone who can justify this to me in some sort of logical, legal (not religious) fashion.  I promise no reprisals: I will merely read.                                                                                                        
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Above you see my family: wife, two daughters, two grandsons; taken last summer in Davis, CA whilst visiting.  Second pic above is Erin's college chamber choir fresh from their tour and home concert last month.

Just thought I'd throw something up there this morning; entertain y'all a bit.

First POSITIVE PROGNOSIS (!)

I got the first really good news of this drama yesterday at my neurologist's office. It was the post-surgical, post-rehab, post-outpatient physical therapy appointment. He watched me take a few steps while holding on to me and said this:

--You will be walking unassisted by the end of the year. To which I replied:
--No shit? How confident are you of that? To which he replied:
--90%.

Boy oh boy, was that good news. I don't think he would give me false hope at this point so I choose to believe him and work very hard to make his prediction come true. I won't be tap dancing or running a marathon, to be sure, but I at least hope to walk onto a stage again with a modicum of comfort and ease, if not elegance, and be able to stand through at least half a rehearsal.

My physical therapist punishes me three times per week and thinks I am doing beautifully, given the damage to my nerves and the resultant weakening of leg muscles. For the first time since the Minor Setback, she took away my walker and put me onto two canes and made me walk with them about 150 feet, with rest stops every fifty feet. I was sweating at the end of it. I have to keep doing that because Two Canes is the third stage of treatment, with One Cane being the fourth (wheelchair and walker are One and Two).

I am lucky to have a superb caretaker, Dorothy Miller, during the week, who punishes me almost as much as the physical therapist and is a joy to be around. We're going out for Happy Hour oysters and martinis tomorrow for a minor celebration of sorts. Erin comes home Sunday and maybe we can do the same.
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This will be the last post about this soap opera for some time: nine months is the gestation period for humans and my gestation period for a rebirth of ambulatory independence. It's a long time. I may go back to discussing politics, which at the moment is rich with topics. Who knows? Maybe I'll run for president in 2016.

Thanks for staying tuned. All told, I'm a lucky guy: I have two daughters, two old friends, an adopted family, and numerous former students who apparently really do give a rip about me and bother to tell me so, for which I am more grateful than I care to express here.

Cheers, then,

Bill

Minor Setback Amidst Slow Progress

I'm back in the wheelchair. At 300 am on 16 March, whilst taking walker to the toilet, I noticed my right leg was dragging. When I got up at 700, neither leg was working and I was in the same condition as before surgery: useless. I was unable to do any of my leg exercises that morning. At physical therapy that day, the therapist who is very experienced in spinal cord injury said that my symptom is not uncommon. My strength will probably return, but I must work hard daily to regain the progress I had attained in the 5 weeks since surgery. (I'd been out of the wheelchair for about two weeks). As a result, I have requested 24-hour caregiving while Erin is on tour next week; if something happened at night while alone, I could be helpless until morning, unable to even reach my cell phone. Sigh, sigh, double sigh. Will use walker AMAP today and resume trying leg exercises. Triple sigh.
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I think it's important to relate here what I have to tell myself more than weekly: I did absolutely nothing to myself to deserve this. I did nothing to cause it. Shit happens. Nor did I coach the four incorrect diagnoses from three neurologists and one orthopedic surgeon over a four-year period of slow deterioration; I merely accepted blame and one unnecessary back surgery. Neither blame nor surgery helped. I am where I am, that is, a victim of the "best health care system in the world." Only frequent bouts of cursing seem to help temporarily, as does a lot of sleep (everything I do is an exhausting effort). According to my neurologist, it could be six months to a year before any real progress might be noticed. No guarantees as to how much progress I might experience nor how long it might take because we have no real idea how much nerve damage was done before the corrective surgery, which may have come too late. Only guarantee is that symptoms will not get worse. That's something, at least.
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Am looking forward to a corned beef sandwich today to celebrate St. Paddy, as well as more of the world's second finest athletic event: NCAA BB Tournament.

Cheers, gang.

Up and At 'Em (I guess), At Least Not Down and Out (yet)

Was discharged from an acute rehab facility here in Huntsville and returned home on 27 Feb so on Monday it will be a week. I had been hospitalized since surgery on 2 Feb and have been in a wheelchair since. My walking with a walker improved very much in the three weeks of daily therapy and am now in outpatient rehab here in town three days a week, where we continue to work on muscle strength and flexibility in the legs, as well as my gait. While in rehab I learned to transfer smoothly from wheelchair to bed, easy chair, dinner chair, and toilet with help. I now do those things without help but I still need help in and out of the shower. I dress and shave myself, though I have to transfer to a stool so I can sit at the sink for ablutions (wheelchair is too low). In short, I think my legs have improved in terms of strength and movement. We'll see what Erin thinks when she arrives home.

I have two long term care policies to which I have made claims so I hope they don't act like normal insurance companies and find an excuse to refuse me: my nest egg would disappear; it would have disappeared long ago without Medicare (Democrats and Lyndon Johnson be praised). I have had in-home help from Home Instead since my arrival at home: my main caregiver is a delightful woman who was here from the first day. Have also had help from three others this week when Dorothy is off and during the night; we didn't want me home alone at night while Erin is attending the ACDA Southern Division, where she made a successful presentation today. She arrives home tomorrow.

Am trying to use the wheel chair less and less; I now take the walker instead when going to the bathroom or into the bed for a nap or at night. I can now do everything for myself except stand and cook, as well as fetch things (hard to do when you have both hands on the walker). Standing without any support at all is still very hard because of weak muscles, yes, but primarily because I can't feel my feet, so my brain doesn't know where I am in space and I weave like a helpless drunk after a short time.

Thanks for the many expressions of support both here and on Facebook; I am deeply grateful for them and am so glad that I have so many former students who still care about me after all these years and take the time to say so in some form.

Am trying to follow my Viking forebears' excellent advice: 'Pray to God in a storm if you like, but keep on rowing.'

Will keep rowing.

Latest Post-Surgical News

Operation was a success; i.e., he did what he wanted to do. Whether or not--and how much--I recover critical functions remains to be seen. Am in inpatient rehab here in HSV until 27th. Meanwhile, am fitting the house for some critical things that people in wheelchairs need. I am now one of them. Erin holding up well. Dog still loves me. Have walked 250 feet very slowly with the help of a walker and helper. That's the best I can report at the moment, other than I hate hospital food. Am receiving fine medical, therapeutic and technical care. My legs are beginning to work again after three weeks of utter uselessness.