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.
Tuesday, July 29, 2025
Thursday, July 24, 2025
#43: I Fell and Hurt my Hand
As I write this, I'm not able to use my right hand much so the entry today will be the full story that I recorded in my personal journal. Saves me from having to type.
UPDATE: Our Urban Stages concert will be on December 9th, not the 4th.
WED JULY 16
I slipped on a subway gate there on the sidewalk to the side of a Chik-Fil-A. I’ve been walking this route for years. It wasn’t raining. But perhaps some misty something came.
All I know is my right foot slipped as if on oil. I landed on my right hip and right wrist. I started to get up, but then I thought, “No. Don’t move. Stay still. Assess your situation.
I felt pain in my wrist, and still do as I write this. There were three reddish blue marks, parallel — the metal grates! — on the heel of my right hand.
I could move it but it hurt a bit.
A woman walked by wearing sunglasses and kinda wrapped up tight. She didn’t even look down. Walked right by me without a glance. Which is fine. Nothing she could have done.
I was too far away from the doorman I greet in the mornings and I was facing the wrong way. I couldn’t tell. And I couldn’t move yet.
I was carrying a heavy bag on my left shoulder (microphone, cable, etc.) and, strapped on my back, the plush seat cushion I sit on when we play at Strawberry Fields.
I suspect they might have helped cushion me, protected me from falling backward, hitting my head but I was aware of not falling backwards.
I heard a European male voice calling from across 43rd street. A man in his 40s and his wife ran across the street and asked if I was okay. He extended his hand.
I told him I was okay and didn’t need an ambulance but then I realized I couldn’t stand so he pulled me to my feet. I resettled myself, thanked them profusely, turned toward the C train entrance, down to the metal gates, winced when I had to use my hand, but got in, and down another staircase to the track.
The lighted signs were blazing yellow that the A train had an emergency stop at 34th (mechanical breakdown) and so would not be running, or heavily delayed.
I needed C train Local. Just as I descended the metal stairs, I put my audio book back on.
I was a teenage human girl living in an outer planet who has only ever known work, enslaved from birth. But she escaped and stumbled on to a disabled space ship, whose AI starts teaching her about the world.
A train zooms in. E train. No good. Doesn’t go north enough. But it’s on the local track so that means the C is running.
Five or six minutes later I see a train on the local track coming but real slow. I see it’s a C train. Hooray!
It creeps into the station. I am waiting by the first car. Doors don’t open. A young man next to me pulling a case and I race to the second car, making it just as the doors close.
My wrist is throbbing but I’m trying not to use it. I look down at the three stripes and pressed the area around them. No swelling. No painful spots. Probably sprained.
Got to 72nd and carefully walked up the stairs to the corner, Central Park West. Four lanes of traffic. Big stoplight. It’s hot and muggy and I’m feeling miserable.
For the first time, I wore a cap, a white runner’s cap with a nice bill because we face the sunrise and, as it rises, the shadows move around us, sometimes peeking through the leaves, blinding me.
But our bodies do get fried if there’s no cloud cover.
Gavin arrived and I told him what happened, I called Jim who said he was sending an ambulance. (He didn’t).
Today was a hot slog. Toward the end, some people stayed around but mostly it was hot. We have regulars come. A dad with two babies in a stroller, three different young Black women with cute white babies in strollers. An older woman who sits in the corner feeding the pigeons,
But mostly small groups of tourists. Usually Italian, French, Mexican…
Blake didn’t come today so I texted him and said I couldn’t come to yoga. He was worried. Said it was okay.
Got home, then went to CVS to get a wrist supporter.
Spent the rest of the day on the couch letting him take care of me. Meatloaf sandwich with cheese.
Then I roasted a frozen turkey breast.
--
New Show on December 9th at Urban Stages. More details soon!
You are free to stream the songs below but purchasing them is the best way to support independent artists such as myself. Or if you have the means, you can make a small donation through PayPal or Venmo using my email address: steveshack@gmail.com.
And please share this with friends!
[This is the hand-crafted, no-AI, non-bot newsletter of Steve Schalchlin. If you wish to be removed from the list, send me an email. If someone sent you this and you want to be added, write me at steveshack@gmail.com]--
Steve Schalchlin
Living in the Bonus Round
Spotify Links
2024 Songs https://tinyurl.com/3su9t85m
Love Songs by Steve Schalchlin https://tinyurl.com/stevelovesongs
Personal Songs by Steve Schalchlin https://tinyurl.com/stevepersonal
Comic/Humor Songs by Steve Schalchlin https://tinyurl.com/stevehumor
Inspirational Songs by Steve Schalchlin https://tinyurl.com/steveinspire
Meditation Music by Steve Schalchlin https://tinyurl.com/stevemeditate
Political Songs by Steve Schalchlin https://tinyurl.com/stevepolitics
Rebel Nerd Songs - lyrics by Steve Schalchlin
https://tinyurl.com/steverebelnerd
UPDATE: Our Urban Stages concert will be on December 9th, not the 4th.
WED JULY 16
I slipped on a subway gate there on the sidewalk to the side of a Chik-Fil-A. I’ve been walking this route for years. It wasn’t raining. But perhaps some misty something came.
All I know is my right foot slipped as if on oil. I landed on my right hip and right wrist. I started to get up, but then I thought, “No. Don’t move. Stay still. Assess your situation.
I felt pain in my wrist, and still do as I write this. There were three reddish blue marks, parallel — the metal grates! — on the heel of my right hand.
I could move it but it hurt a bit.
A woman walked by wearing sunglasses and kinda wrapped up tight. She didn’t even look down. Walked right by me without a glance. Which is fine. Nothing she could have done.
I was too far away from the doorman I greet in the mornings and I was facing the wrong way. I couldn’t tell. And I couldn’t move yet.
I was carrying a heavy bag on my left shoulder (microphone, cable, etc.) and, strapped on my back, the plush seat cushion I sit on when we play at Strawberry Fields.
I suspect they might have helped cushion me, protected me from falling backward, hitting my head but I was aware of not falling backwards.
I heard a European male voice calling from across 43rd street. A man in his 40s and his wife ran across the street and asked if I was okay. He extended his hand.
I told him I was okay and didn’t need an ambulance but then I realized I couldn’t stand so he pulled me to my feet. I resettled myself, thanked them profusely, turned toward the C train entrance, down to the metal gates, winced when I had to use my hand, but got in, and down another staircase to the track.
The lighted signs were blazing yellow that the A train had an emergency stop at 34th (mechanical breakdown) and so would not be running, or heavily delayed.
I needed C train Local. Just as I descended the metal stairs, I put my audio book back on.
I was a teenage human girl living in an outer planet who has only ever known work, enslaved from birth. But she escaped and stumbled on to a disabled space ship, whose AI starts teaching her about the world.
A train zooms in. E train. No good. Doesn’t go north enough. But it’s on the local track so that means the C is running.
Five or six minutes later I see a train on the local track coming but real slow. I see it’s a C train. Hooray!
It creeps into the station. I am waiting by the first car. Doors don’t open. A young man next to me pulling a case and I race to the second car, making it just as the doors close.
My wrist is throbbing but I’m trying not to use it. I look down at the three stripes and pressed the area around them. No swelling. No painful spots. Probably sprained.
Got to 72nd and carefully walked up the stairs to the corner, Central Park West. Four lanes of traffic. Big stoplight. It’s hot and muggy and I’m feeling miserable.
For the first time, I wore a cap, a white runner’s cap with a nice bill because we face the sunrise and, as it rises, the shadows move around us, sometimes peeking through the leaves, blinding me.
But our bodies do get fried if there’s no cloud cover.
Gavin arrived and I told him what happened, I called Jim who said he was sending an ambulance. (He didn’t).
Today was a hot slog. Toward the end, some people stayed around but mostly it was hot. We have regulars come. A dad with two babies in a stroller, three different young Black women with cute white babies in strollers. An older woman who sits in the corner feeding the pigeons,
But mostly small groups of tourists. Usually Italian, French, Mexican…
Blake didn’t come today so I texted him and said I couldn’t come to yoga. He was worried. Said it was okay.
Got home, then went to CVS to get a wrist supporter.
Spent the rest of the day on the couch letting him take care of me. Meatloaf sandwich with cheese.
Then I roasted a frozen turkey breast.
--
New Show on December 9th at Urban Stages. More details soon!
You are free to stream the songs below but purchasing them is the best way to support independent artists such as myself. Or if you have the means, you can make a small donation through PayPal or Venmo using my email address: steveshack@gmail.com.
And please share this with friends!
[This is the hand-crafted, no-AI, non-bot newsletter of Steve Schalchlin. If you wish to be removed from the list, send me an email. If someone sent you this and you want to be added, write me at steveshack@gmail.com]--
Steve Schalchlin
Living in the Bonus Round
Spotify Links
2024 Songs https://tinyurl.com/3su9t85m
Love Songs by Steve Schalchlin https://tinyurl.com/stevelovesongs
Personal Songs by Steve Schalchlin https://tinyurl.com/stevepersonal
Comic/Humor Songs by Steve Schalchlin https://tinyurl.com/stevehumor
Inspirational Songs by Steve Schalchlin https://tinyurl.com/steveinspire
Meditation Music by Steve Schalchlin https://tinyurl.com/stevemeditate
Political Songs by Steve Schalchlin https://tinyurl.com/stevepolitics
Rebel Nerd Songs - lyrics by Steve Schalchlin
https://tinyurl.com/steverebelnerd
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