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Vignette on who is a good doctor

When I was diagnosed, it was two days until my last day at work. I was doing so much cello playing that I didn't have time to goof around at the Academy of Sciences, I thought. I'd given my notice 4 months earlier and they had asked me to stay several times, but I always said "no" because it was my plan to go back to entirely focusing on music. I was making plenty of money in music, but I would not have been able to buy any insurance, with known MS. I needed a job in order to have continuing insurance.

Until the good doc told me what to do--get my job back--I didn't really suspect how serious the situation of having MS was. Since then I've come to terms with financial ruin that is the norm for those who have MS, and the loss of independence due to program after program that you have to toe the line for, including the medical establishment itself. Little do we realize in the beginning how many decisions that we will have continue to make to enjoy life (dammit) within the circumstances of being ill, uncomfortable, disturbed, disappointed, sad, confused, not to mention, angry.

To be clear: I enjoy many things. This story is about, in retrospect, the fact that the doctor gave great advice, guiding my actions. She helped me very much to mitigate many long term problems. She was Heidi Crayton in Washington, DC.

Neurological Overloads That Amaze

Performers often have the impetus to grab the instrument from someone they are listening to, saying, "No! Do it like this!" Of course, we don't usually do it, but we pretty much always think it. So, when I attended a piano trio concert last night in which the trio was playing repertory that I used to perform and know, I was experiencing physical memories as I watched and listened. To make it more intense, the cellist was not bowing well. He was forcing in order to try to get big sound. Big sound is drawn from the string by encouraging vibrations to become huge. Instead he was squashing the strings, especially in climaxes. (He broke many bow hairs--a sure sign of forceful pressure.) Thus, not only was I reliving passages that I once knew so well, but I was also involuntarily sending mental vibes to the man on how he should be bowing in comparison to how he was bowing.

Today my right (bow) arm is downright limp. It hurts to use it and it won't lift very well--not because of muscular pain, but because nerve impulse conduction is somehow all screwed up. I guess my neural pathways became overloaded simply due to my imagination, which in this case is probably almost as solid and realistic as actually bowing, due to 30 years of practice.

What a corner to be backed into: having a highly trained skill that overloads the neurology upon use. Can you believe that simply imagining is enough to overload my right arm!?