SUMMARY: In this newsletter, I share some challenging news about my arm: severe arthritis in my wrist and a detaching shoulder implant. This has led to a lot of reflection on my "bonus round" and what it means for upcoming performances. While it felt like an "ending" at first, a beautiful moment singing at Strawberry Fields reminded me of music's healing power and the joy it brings, putting my worries into perspective.
TUE JULY 29
Tough week for Steve.
After last week, which contained a few dark nights of the soul, based on my prognosis following my fall (after I went and got x-rays thanks to readers of this newsletter,) I am no longer in the dark about my condition.
No broken bones but the arthritis in my wrist has been off the chart. Worse, my shoulder around the implant, which is a blade that has been placed and cemented into the arm bone just above my elbow, is becoming detached due to my having bad bone density loss. You know, my elbow could fall on the floor.
So, going forward, I have to take into account whether my right arm will be functional enough to play on that date, December 9th. I’m also planning to play for and sing with Corina in September at Don’t Tell Mama.
My point is I sat for a moment in the reality that I’ve crossed another bridge in the bonus round. Until now, I’ve had the energy and physicality of a four year old. Yes! I can wear them out!
But it’s been a kind of fantasy. I have been living this life as if everything will last forever. That I still am that four year old or nineteen year old.
Back in the days of the original diary, when I got to a moment like this, I would simply declare “”End of Book One.” And invent the next chapter as if I were reading a novel or watching a telenovela.
The old diary! What was I doing on July 24, 1996? Here it is.
“Wednesday, July 24, 1996
“PICC Line Failure. End of an Era?
“It was bound to happen sooner or later, I suppose, but my PICC line -- intravenous catheter which was inserted into my arm about seven weeks ago and which feeds me every night -- became irreversibly blocked today. Nothing the nurses did would unclog it. And since I had only one more week to go on the Total Parenteral Nutrition anyway, we decided I would see if I could make it on my own.” [end]
In layman’s terms, this was our sink or swim moment. The feeding line crimped, which was, until the Crixivan arrived, the only way I got any nutrition. So do we go through a painful reinsertion procedure or do we see if he can make it on his own? I had been gaining weight. I was keeping food down. We pulled it out of my arm and I never looked back.
This was the start of “Living in the Bonus Round,” which I wouldn’t name until much later.
The contrast was startling to me. Back then, 29 years ago, it was a new beginning. To be fearless and do everything I vowed to do if I were set free from the looming grave.
Today, it’s feeling like an ending. I’m not intending to be dramatic. I’m just trying to soberly face the possible consequences so I don’t panic if the news gets worse. I’m calm. I’m calm. I’m perfectly calm.
But, in those dark nights, I wondered, what if December 9th is my final show? What would I do for a final show?
Which immediately brought out my black humor. I thought, That’d be an interesting press angle. Just like Gideon in The Last Session. One more show.
Calm down, PT Barnum, it was just me spinning out. That was my week. On the other side…
1. A beautiful thing happened. We were meeting friends at the newly revived West Bank Cafe, when our host hesitated, and then approached us saying how important The Last Session cast album was to him when he was in high school.
2. At Strawberry Fields last Saturday, as Gavin Gold and I started to play and sing, a woman sat near me to my left on the same benches with her family. I looked over at her to smile and suddenly realized she was mentally challenged, not quite looking at me. She seemed a bit unsure of what was happening. So I sang to her.
Soon she was waving her hands to the music. Then a big grin came on her face and she began to sing the words, staring as a trusting child into my eyes. Her family surrounded us with cameras. Her face was beaming! Their faces were beaming. My heart was bursting.
On their way out, I blew them a kiss. The dad tapped her on the shoulder. She stopped dead center and with both arms, blew us a gigantic kiss back.
Nothing I worried about this week was as informative to me as that moment. Every week, I sing “Let It Be.” I need to just realize that stuff happens and you just have to survive it as best as you can.
HOWEVER, if I populate my December date with the best singers in New York singing my songs, and act AS IF it were my last show on earth, it might make me set my sights even higher.
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