Upon graduating from Eastman, I eagerly looked forward to the next phase of my life. The plan was that I would attend Indiana University for my Master's Degree - this had previously been arranged before I went to Eastman. A Hungarian pianist (Bela Nagy) who had adjudicated one of the piano competitions in Spokane...awarded me the top prize, and had invited me to attend Indiana University to study with him after Eastman was finished. My parents were overjoyed by this turn of events, and so was I. As much as I loved Eastman, I was ready for a change of scene. However, both my best friend, Dayna, and I wanted a bit of breathing space before starting Part II of our schooling, thus we decided to take a road trip --- driving from Rochester, NY to Shattuck, Oklahoma, where her parents lived.
So we set off...two inexperienced young women, to face whatever challenges might arise. I did not tell my mother about the trip, as I was afraid she might tell me to come home immediately -- for whatever reason. (I should say here that mother and I had NOT been seeing eye to eye for some time, and if she wanted me to do a particular thing, I would automatically NOT want to do that. So I delayed calling her.)
Dayna and I had much fun on our driving trip, and while nothing terrible happened, there were a few adventures that I would not want to repeat. The worst was outrunning a twister! I had not realized there were so many tornados in this part of the country and my first experience with one was very frightening: the sky got very dark and ominous looking, and a wind came up. I recall Dayna looking out the window and noting that a tornado was bearing down on us! So she began to speed up until the car was really sailing along. Fortunately, she is a very experienced driver, and can really handle an automobile. So we arrived at her parents' home in one piece. We ran into the house and down the stairs to the basement-- never have I run so fast. There we all waited for the tornado to pass. I have never heard such loud wind noise in my life...very scary indeed! I just prayed that the house would not blow away.. (this can happen, I know.) Dayna's mom and dad were also in the basement, and although they tried to make light of the situation, I knew they were nervous.
While in Shattuck, I finally called my mother---
to tell her where I was and what I was doing. She was somewhat alarmed that we were driving such a long distance, but I assured her that Dayna (about whom she had heard much) was an excellent driver,
and that we were fine. I did not tell her about the tornado we had just outrun...(would not have been a wise move, thought I), just said we thought a little vacation was in order for both of us, after our very exacting senior year (several concerts for me in a leg cast!) Mother was not too pleased with our antics, but what could she do? So I stayed in Oklahoma another week and then took the train to Spokane. While on that long trip, I reflected on my past three years at Eastman, wondering what was in store for me at Indiana University. One thing I knew for sure was that I would be required to take a few exams---IU didn't seem to trust even an Eastman degree - with honors! They needed to have proof of one's academic knowledge...thus: the exams. So while on the train, I was reviewing music history, theory, form and analysis, etc.
When the train pulled into the depot in Spokane, I got off, looking for one or both of my parents....but no one was there to meet me. I walked into the depot building only to hear my name being paged over the loud speaker. I quickly went to a courtesy phone.... it was a nurse from the nearby Deaconess Hospital. She said my mother needed me, and would I please come to the reception desk at the hospital. When I asked for more information, she refused, and just said to come as soon as possible. I was beginning (ha!) to become alarmed, but I took a cab to the hospital. My brother was downstairs at the door....and he took me to an upper floor reception area. I could see that he had been crying... so I knew something was VERY wrong. Mother was sitting there with her head down. She looked at me and said: "Dianne your father just passed away after a gall bladder attack. He died on the operating table, just a little while ago." Needless to say, I was dumbstruck, and thoroughly shocked. What a horror....she said it so calmly....obviously in a daze. John was crying again...and I could not say a word...not even ONE word.
Apparently he had the attack while driving his car, and pulled over. A passing driver stopped to assist him... called an ambulance and dad was taken to the hospital. His primary surgeon (from the Mayo Clinic) happened to be in town, and came immediately to the hospital...but father died while on the operating table, so the doctor never had a chance to operate. The upshot of it all, was that dad's gall bladder was in very bad shape...but it was not removed when the gall stones were taken out in a previous surgery. This all resonated with me, as earlier this year (April 2012) my gall bladder was removed along with a large gall stone. As I sit here writing this, I wonder IF my father would have had the same procedure done THEN as I have just a few months ago, perhaps he might still be alive. This is indeed a sobering thought!
The death of a loved one is a very difficult thing to process. I was no different than anyone else, only I could not cry.... the tears just wouldn't come. Since there was so much to do, I felt I needed to stay strong and do what was necessary. My mom was a basket case, and my brother was really in a state.
I recall that we all went home together, and a neighbor friend came over to assist. I began writing notes and calling people to inform them of my father's passing. He was quite young, only 51 years old.
The next few days were difficult....everyone was depressed, and mother had no energy at all. I recall getting up the next morning, looking out the window at the beautiful sunny day, which felt very peculiar...just 'not right.' How could this be? My dad was not here to enjoy the lovely day....and we all were. I didn't feel like practicing, although mom requested it later in the day. I suppose she felt the need to restore some 'normalcy' in the house...and my piano practicing had embodied a routine for her for so many years. I realized then, what my absence during these past 3 years away at school, must have meant for her, as she and I arose early every morning. I would practice, and she would sit at the kitchen table, drinking her coffee, and reading the newspaper. Such were the vicissitudes of our daily life....those small actions that we all take for granted....and only miss when they are no longer there.
The summer passed in a kind of blur...like an impressionistic painting....a bit fuzzy, but there nonetheless. Every day I practiced new repertoire, and studied for the exams I would be taking at IU. I realized that it was a blessing that my assistantship at Indiana had been previously arranged, otherwise I don't think I would have been able to leave Spokane
for my master's degree (under the present circumstances, anyway). John was attending school as well....the very same Gonzaga University which I had attended my freshman year in Spokane, also while living at home. He was active in the Glee Club, and with his beautiful, bass baritone voice, was a welcome addition to their various barbershop quartets. I was grateful he would be staying in Spokane, and could assist Mom when she needed him. Sometime during this period of time, (not sure exactly when) mother decided she should sell the house....but she didn't inform John or me of this decision. She wanted to move to Spokane proper and leave Spokane Valley, which was mostly populated by families with children. Of course, she would continue to teach at Central Valley High School, and just commute.
And so the day came when I (once again) left Spokane for Points East. Mother had no extra money to spare, so I would be entirely dependent upon the funds from my assistantship for all school expenses. This proved to be much more difficult than I would have imagined, as there was virtually NO EXTRA MONEY, after my school supplies were purchased.
I arrived at Bloomington, Indiana (where IU was located), and was immediately deposited at the dormitory where many graduate students were housed. I met the girl who was going to be my roommate....she was a bit strange, but nice enough. Her field was not music, but science. She showed me around the enormous campus including the Student Center, called THE HUB (in which the cafeteria was located) -- quite far from the dormitory, so I would be walking a great deal. (By then my leg had totally healed, so this would not pose a problem.) I registered the next day, and was given my teaching and daily class schedule. Since my assistantship was for actually teaching piano, I learned that most of my students were studying other instruments, and piano was a requirement necessary for graduation, but not an elective or voluntary course. In other words, I would have NO piano majors. OH JOY!!! This was not good news, but what could I do about it?? My own courses were all in the morning, beginning at the ungodly hour of 8:00 A.M., every single day. I took an overload of subjects, in order to finish my degree in less than 2 or 3 years. This was my choice....not the university's. Then I received a huge surprise....Dr. NAGY (who had recruited me for his class at Indiana U. ) was not going to be teaching that year! He was on sabbatical and another pianist was there in his place. (I was very upset about this, as it was the one thing at IU about which I could be certain...and now that was NOT to be). His name was Vlado PERLEMUTER. He was a famous pianist and recording artist, and heretofore had taught at the Paris Conservatoire. Since there was no one else with whom I wished to study, I decided to just accept things as they were. This turned out to be a wise move, although I didn't know it at the time.
The first order of business, however, was to navigate those pesky exams, which were required of ALL incoming graduate students. I recall that my first exam was Music Theory, which I passed with flying colors. Then came General Music History, which brought the same result. However, there was an exam for Early Music History, with the emphasis on EARLY. This posed a few problems, and I didn't do so well. I then learned that many of the textbooks used in most Music Schools in America had been written by several professors on staff from Indiana University. Had I known this, would have procured one or two and studied them (especially the Early Music tome). As it turned out, I was required to take a 'remedial' Early Music History course, which was taught by the author of our textbook. He was very knowledgeable...AND very entertaining. In the class were other grad students, also a bit deficient in this area. We all used to meet together to study and drink coffee. Our various backgrounds were a potpourri....a Curtis graduate, several from state universities, Peabody Insititue, 2 or 3 from Juilliard, and one from Eastman (me). Hmmm! No one was up to the IU standard, apparently. I also learned that Indiana was one of the most exacting universities for all fields, including music. Wouldn't you know?? I had elected to take Advanced Theory (recommended for THEORY MAJORS only) which turned out to be a big mistake! The professor wanted ONLY Theory Majors in his classes, (not pianists like myself.) He asked me if I might wish to reconsider my decision to be there. I just answered that THEORY was one of my favorite subjects, was one of my minors, so would prefer to remain. He could not forbid nor prevent me from enrolling in the course, but he COULD AND DID make my life difficult. He had something against pianists, I decided, as he was always picking on me ....no joke! But I gracefully side-stepped around him and managed to get a decent A- for the first semester. The second semester was another matter, however. The emphasis was on 14th Century Counterpoint....very difficult. In addition, I was performing a great deal and was entering some competitions. I was also known within the Music School as one of the most outstanding pianists. My Theory Professor was not impressed with this....he didn't care....and told me as much. So he cut me no slack for these 'non-theory activities.' I could not understand such a narrow-minded attitude, but I did NOT quit the course. For example, because I could not be in class for one exam, (was playing in a competition) he told me he would automatically lower my grade one full notch (A to B, B to C, etc.) Not at all fair....as I had permission from the Dean of the Music School to be absent....and told this Professor exactly that. He became enraged and said that no matter what the Dean or I thought, HE was the Professor and would decide if I had permission to be excused or not. (I could not believe this arrogance, and went to the Dean to inform him. Probably not the smartest move, but I was very angry.) The upshot of all this was that my grade in that class was lower than it should have been....patently unfair, but there you are. Later I learned that this professor and the Dean were NOT friends at all.....and I had inadvertently become involved in their dispute (which was basically over other matters.) Such pettiness does occur in these institutions, and the unwitting victims are often the students who pay the price.
Monsieur Perlemuter (my piano professor) turned out to be a most lovely person, and a good teacher. He adored me and asked me to come to Paris and study with him ....perhaps the following year. Of course, I was most flattered and honored by this request...whether I could do so or not, would be another matter. Paris was a wonderful city, he said, and I would learn much from just living there for a while. Later in my life, I found that to be true...when I went to Geneva, Zurich, and London to live....spending much time in Paris as well. Unfortunately, Monsieur Perlemuter became very depressed living in Bloomington....no doubt the extreme difference between the two environments and the absence of his wife contributed to this situation. So he asked to be released from his contract early to return to France, and was granted permission, of course. WELL, another teacher had bitten the dust, so to speak, and I didn't know what would happen. Since there was still no one with whom I wished to study, I decided to allow events to just take their course, with no imput from me.
Unbeknownst to me at the time, that decision was exceedingly wise. My prayers of finding a great teacher who would assist me in learning what I realized I must know, were answered. The wonderful artist who appeared on the scene was Mme. Sari BIRO....and the fact that she was there at all was a minor miracle. Mme. Biro was Hungarian....she had immigrated to America some years before, and was presently living in San Francisco. She gave many concerts in the United States, touring with Arthur Rubinstein, with whom she was great friends. She was entirely magical, and I adored her. After hearing her play, I knew she possessed the answers to all my questions about piano playing. It is difficult to describe someone's method of teaching, so I am not going to even attempt that here. Suffice it to say that most of my habits and previous training had to be discarded. While I was willing to do this, I still had to graduate from IU, which required a solo recital, chamber music concert, as well as much coursework, so I could not start the process immediately. (I had decided that I must move to San Francisco to study with her there, without having to deal with courses, grades, and degree programs.) She did demonstrate to me HOW to strengthen my fingers, HOW to use them, and HOW to begin to make various types of sounds on the piano. (It is not simply a matter of pressing the key down to make the sound, you understand.) I began doing what I could to begin the process while still practicing my repertoire. {I must digress here and explain that doing remedial work on one's technique while learning repertoire, does NOT work. One must first concentrate on the fingers, and then go from there. It is a long process....as is everything worth doing in life.} I realized while I was there, that the male pianists (teachers) on staff were all highly envious of Mme. Biro's prodigious technique and fine pianism. They didn't have anywhere near the degree of her perfection, and bitterly resented her for that. It was such a treat to hear and watch her play -- I loved it. While she was not so well known in America as in Europe, nonetheless she had a great following. (In fact, after I became involved with Facebook here in Seattle, I learned that several of my new fbook artistic friends were cognizant of her fame in Europe, and very admiring of her piano playing and knowledge!!! This was very interesting and marvelous to hear.) She was diminutive in stature, blonde, and very attractive with highly chiseled features. Actually the word that comes to mind is... 'elegant.' She dressed beautifully, and while she spoke with a Hungarian accent, her English was better and more eloquent than most natives of this country. She used the language in a most colorful manner, and was able describe scenes and events so vividly that one could actually see them.
The other students in her class were of varying levels (I was, by far the most accomplished), but all were duly impressed with her, and most wanted to go with her to California, when she left Indiana (myself included). During that year, her daughter, Maria, came to Indiana to visit her mother and meet all of us. Maria is a statuesque redhead, who always has looked like she stepped out of Vogue magazine. I found her to be a most intelligent and quick-witted young woman -- and while not a musician, she certainly was knowledgeable about music and the arts in general. She was a dancer, and after she stopped dancing, began a career in banking as an officer of the Bank of America. She also worked in Public Relations for various artistic organizations in San Francisco -- therefore, knew just about everyone in that city. We began an association while I was at Indiana U. (later living in San Francisco) which turned into a life-long friendship. To this day, I speak with Maria quite often....she is a terrific friend.
My lessons with Mme. Biro were a revelation....and I looked forward to each lesson with great anticipation. Often I had a lesson every day, or every other day. She didn't pay attention to rules and such, so there was no problem, although I didn't mention my extra lessons to other students or professors. By this time, I was nearly finished with that dreadful Theory Professor and his class, and didn't much care what my grade would be, although I certainly didn't want to have a blot on my almost perfect record.....if possible. I practiced as long as I could in the evening - sometimes until 1:00 a.m. (the administration left the music building open until 2:00 a.m. for pianists (such as myself) who were eager beavers to practice.
The other class which was very interesting for me was Chamber Music (taught by the reigning cellist in the university, and one of the most famous in the world --- Janos STARKER.) He was not only a very intelligent and great pedagogue, he was a task master.....and I loved his classes. I learned a great deal about playing chamber music from him, and because I worked with several of his best cellists, also studied and performed a great deal of the cello/piano repertoire. It should be said here that much of that repertoire is very difficult for the piano (and the pianist) and should be called 'Piano/Cello' sonatas and not vice versa. The Rachmaninoff Cello Sonata, for example, is nearly as difficult for the piano as a Piano Concerto, and the cello part is not difficult at all. I also played chamber music that included other instruments...such as the TROUT QUINTET by Schubert, and performed this work often since Indiana University. I have never forgotten my carefully worked out fingerings and phrasings, or Mr. Starker's remarks about the music.
I should mention that when I studied with Vlado Perlemuter the previous semester, I learned the very difficult GASPARD DE LA NUIT, by Maurice Ravel. It seems that Mr. Perlemuter studied with Ravel, himself; in fact he was Ravel's last piano student!! So I received many tidbits from Mr. Perlemuter on the music.....including actual changes of some notes in various works. This was indeed interesting.....I learned many of Ravel's actual intentions regarding his music, plus pedaling instructions.....something very few pianists ever learn. I have always been grateful that I learned GASPARD during that period, as it is quite a handful to learn (TOO many notes), and requires much time. Ravel has always been one of my favorite composers, and I learned many works of his with Mr. Perlemuter. (Later in my life, I performed the Ravel Sonatine on the New York City Ballet stage at the State Theater in Lincoln Center, which was choreographed by George Balanchine for the Ravel Festival. By then I was piano soloist for the NYCB and performed often with the company - either with the orchestra or alone with the dancers. In Seattle, I also performed the Ravel Concerto in G Major with the Seattle Symphony, for Pacific Northwest Ballet.)
My year and a summer at IU passed quickly - and soon it was time for the performances. I had entered two competitions, and done quite well, so was not nervous about performing - not at all. The concerts went well, and I received an 'EXCELLENT' rating on both of them. (The piano staff were required to attend all graduate recitals and grade them.) Mme. Biro had told me I would be welcome to come to San Francisco to study with her....and I was looking forward to that. However, there were a couple of hoops to jump through before that would happen. I will save those adventures for the next chapter....so until then, may I wish everyone a fond farewell ....until we meet again on the printed page!
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Sunday, October 14, 2012
AN INCREDIBLE JOURNEY (Chapter 11)
This entry will be a departure (once again) from the Narrative of my life story...to tell the story of my past two years...since my retirement from PACIFIC NORTHWEST BALLET. That happened in the spring of 2010, and what followed was a huge surprise to me.
I was quite happy to retire from my work at PNB, and although I love music very much, as well as ballet, the work had begun to affect my general health. No longer was I thrilled to get up in the morning and go to the theater or the Phelps Center...playing the piano had begun to be physically painful, especially as the hours necessary to keep up one's standard of playing, and rehearse the ballet at the same time were taking their toll. So the day I actually told Peter Boal that perhaps I should stop, he was not surprised...I had already started working half time, instead of full time. And the day I actually did stop and walk out of PNB for the last time as an employee there, I was actually very joyful. Peter told me later that he had never seen anyone so happy to stop working. I was very enthusiastic about the future, and what I would be able to accomplish. Little did I realize what was in store for me.
The first few months I did not practice much...as I have practiced all my life, and decided that I had earned a vacation from the piano. (It isn't necessary to state exactly HOW many years I have practiced and studied...but you can probably guess.) I was looking forward to experiencing Christmas without NUTCRACKER rehearsals and performances. I also had decided to start a blog of my life...including all my experiences with the great artists of the world. There have been so many....my teacher (for one) Sari BIRO, George BALANCHINE (Artistic Director of the New York City Ballet for whom I worked for many years), Jerome ROBBINS (Assistant Director of the NYCB, and choreographer for many well known shows and ballets, including West Side Story, On the Town, etc.), Leonard BERNSTEIN (conductor/composer with whom I worked on a collaboration between him and Jerry Robbins), Rudolph NUREYEV (with whom I worked in Zurich on ballets of his), Mischa BARYSHNIKOV (with whom I worked in NYC and Geneva, Switzerland). While in NYC, I also played for some performances of Margot FONTEYN (who was a world famous British ballerina, from the ROYAL BALLET.
And many more. Here in Seattle, I worked with Kent STOWELL, and Francia RUSSELL for almost 25 years...they were co-directors of Pacific Northwest Ballet....and Kent created the world renowned NUTCRACKER BALLET ....based on Maurice SENDAK'S illustrations and models. (I also worked and became acquainted with him). Then there was my dear friend, Michael JACKSON, who had invited me to go on his first World Tour (the BAD TOUR)...he was definitely one of the most talented, gifted and kind individuals I have ever known...I still mourn his passing...can't quite believe it. (He was larger than life to me).
These are a few of the wonderful people whom I have known and worked. This business of music and dance is a most wonderful environment....almost always interesting and fun as well.
After I started writing my blog....10 chapters....including a chapter devoted to Michael, I began to have more problems walking, and generally getting around. Since I had no clue what was going on with me, I decided to have food delivered ...either by Safeway or Schwann. It was getting more and more difficult to go up and down the 5 steps leading to my unit in the condo building. After a few weeks of this, Emebet Seifu, who worked for me sometimes in my flat, suggested I see her doctor...who would come to my home. (Previously I had declined to go to ANY doctor, as I felt that most were not as knowledgeable as they should be.) Then I fell down in my flat, and had difficulty getting up. This happened about twice before Emebet took action. She brought the doctor to my flat! (She is not one to stand on ceremony). In the meantime my dear little kitty, Missy, had passed away....and I was very sad about that. It was very sudden, she just stopped walking and laid down on the floor. I brought her food and water...but she did not recover...in fact she died that night, trying to utter a little 'meow.' I called my brother the next day to tell him (Missy was originally his cat, whom he had brought to me, before his 3rd visit to Columbia...he didn't want to leave her alone again.) He asked me where I was going to have her buried....and I asked Emebet to bury her at her homestead...which she and Solomon did.
TO CONTINUE: I fell once again in the kitchen....flat on my back, but I didn't break any bones, thank goodness. I crawled to a phone, and called Emebet who came over....she called an ambulance and they came and transported me to Swedish (Ballard) Emergency. After a battery of tests...including a CT scan, MRI, and various others, I was admitted into the hospital. But as I was not ILL....I was not allowed to stay there...and a nursing facility was contacted. That was Queen Anne Health Care Center...nearby. This particular place looked nice on the outside, but inside was a different matter. The caregivers were nice people, but the general standard was quite low, to my mind. And they have a high rating, (not sure how that happened). The food is not very good, there are not enough caregivers on the floor (particularly at night). While I was there, I was referred to a very fine neurologist by good friends, (not by the H. Care Clinic). He had studied my tests.... I had by then concluded that I must have MS (Multiple Schlerosis). He told me I did NOT have MS, but a condition, in his opinion, called HYDROCEPHALUS. This means that water collects in the brain cavities...and does not drain of its own accord. And gradually, over time, parts of one's body cease to work as they once did. That was the source of my increasing inability to walk and my poor balance. Also the soles of my feet started to lose the sensation of feeling. (This showed up in pedaling at the piano....when one pedals, the feet have to be very quick and respond to the ear...so that one's sound is refined, without blurring, etc. It is a crucial element of fine piano playing.) And when I needed to bow on stage, I had problems going upstairs to the stage...and always had to hold the arm or hand of one of the dancers, so I wouldn't fall over when I bowed!!! (Wouldn't that have been pretty!!) This doctor (from Eastern Europe) thought I needed to consult with a neurosurgeon to determine whether I should have a SHUNT installed in my head to regulate the flow of liquid that needed to be drained. He knew a woman who was one of the finest neurosurgeons on the West Coast....and called her. She agreed to see me....and decided I should have a Lumbar Puncture (spinal tap) to help her decide if this surgery would work for me. (This was beginning to sound more and more frightening, as you might imagine. ) But I had the spinal tap....and the result was that I walked much better! So that told her that this procedure would indeed be good for me. And a date for the surgery was set. Now...because of the insurance regulations, this is not as easy as 1, 2, 3, ...my Primary Care Physician (PCP)--had retired and another had taken her place. This doctor really knew very little...and I was concerned. So I began the process of changing PCP's....a huge problem in the world of Medicare and Medicare Advantage plans. I spent many hours on the phone to get that small point nailed down. The PCP is the one who has to actually make the recommendation for surgery...AND they usually know very little about Hydrocephalus, but that doesn't matter. They still have to make the recommendation. And since these doctors were specialists, it was necessary for this lady doctor (PCP) to just take their word for it. Which she did, fortunately.
So I was admitted to the hospital...this time to Swedish in Issaquah. (I chose this hospital because their facilities are excellent, having been there for tests and the lumbar puncture) plus my neurosurgeon practiced from there. The additional factor, was that the food was excellent...I had eaten lunch in their dining room...and was told that the food for the patients was of the same quality!! And there seemed to be enough nursing staff to adequately care for all the patients. (Not so at the Q. Anne H. Care Center).
My surgery was scheduled for February 14, 2012...Valentine's Day. I had many fears about this entire matter, but decided I just wouldn't think about it....and what was supposed to happen, would just happen!!! So that worked for me. I seem to be able to order my mind to focus on whatever I wish, a very great asset.
After this surgery, which turned out well (they said), I returned to the Q. Anne Nursing Home. But I didn't want to stay there....so somehow got into another place. (called KleinGallen). It was marginally better....more personnel, although the food was also not terrific. However, Emebet (bless her heart) ALWAYS brought me food prepared by herself at home. So I always ate well at these establishments, thanks to her. She also brought (upon my request) some Bailey's Irish Cream for me to drink (not a great deal, of course.) Emebet thought it would be better for me NOT to be in a nursing home, but I couldn't live by myself. Her solution was that I live at her home in Shoreline with herself and her family. (Solomon, her husband, and two children....ages 13 & 14....Mesale and Mekbeb [alias - Mickey] are all terrific people. The kids are very well-behaved (mostly), and very entertaining. Solomon is a very intelligent man, who is an activist for Ethiopia, and writes many articles for the Ethiopian newspaper. (He is very well known in the Ethiopian community). Emebet is a well-known chef and caterer...she works almost all the time, sometimes to the detriment to her health. Her cooking skills are unparalled. The birthday party she gave for me in late April, was so appreciated by the people there....many from PNB, and those of my friends who are not from PNB.
And so, on March 1, 2012 I moved into Emebet's home ...where I still reside. However, that is NOT the end of this saga. I began having more trouble with pain in the gall bladder area...and the doctor (naturopath) who is excellent, by the way, ordered an ultrasound scan for me...to determine what was going on. A huge gallstone was found...and I had no idea THAT was there. In all the years I have gone to my PCP physician, that had never been mentioned. It took quite a while for that large stone to have developed...and I wonder, what on earth these doctors know anyway. So again...back to Swedish at Issaquah. The surgeon for that happened to be the assistant surgeon in my brain surgery - because of the tubing that had to be installed with the shunt. Was that fortunate, or what??? He knew exactly where things were, and he decided that my gall bladder was too damaged to remain....so he removed it. After a few days in the hospital, I was able to return to Emebet's home. However, as luck would have it, another wrinkle developed. I had contracted colitis while in the hospital....or nursing home. And got very sick at home, and had to go BACK to the hospital yet again. This time, with a different doctor...an infectious disease doctor. The antibiotic which was prescribed for this ailment is very, very strong....and has to be mixed at the pharmacy. It does not just come in a bottle. And I had to take it for 20 days. When I again left the hospital, supposedly I was more or less ok, they nurses did not give me any of the medicine...neither Emebet nor I thought to ask them for it. So when I needed it, there was none...and the pharmacy nearest me didn't have the proper ingredients for this 'mixture.' That was a bit scary...as one is not supposed to miss any doses of the medicine. However, Emebet drove quite a distance in the rain, to another pharmacy, and managed to get the prescription filled there. She has been unbelievable. I definitely would not be alive today, were it not for her - and her incredible care.
These days I am able to get around with the walker, and I can walk without it as well. I remember the days when I could not even STAND up on my own....let alone take a step. So when I can go into a restaurant on my own two legs, and sit in a chair like a normal person, I celebrate these little victories. For me, they are milestones...and the day will come when I can once again drive my car. The first thing will be to get INTO the car and sit on the seat (without my wheel chair). Did I mention that along the way, I purchased a Complete Mobility Van, which has a ramp that allows a wheel chair access. I walk up the ramp with the walker and then sit in the wheel chair on the passenger side. (The seat has been removed). These vehicles are expensive, but it has been a lifesaver. (It is very costly to call for a cabulance to go to various doctor appointments...so actually this car has been economical as well.) I remember the first time I went to dinner with the entire family to Anthony's Home Port, and was able to look out at the water...and appreciate the sunset.
I have learned many life lessons in this latest journey....ALWAYS APPRECIATE WHAT YOU HAVE, INCLUDING YOUR HEALTH. One never knows what will happen. But you have to be able to get up, dust yourself off, and start all over again....(as the songs lyrics say). I am grateful to get up in the morning...still alive.. look out the window at the beautiful trees around here, and WALK to the dining room...where Solomon has prepared breakfast for the kids (who leave early for school), and me, and whomever else is here. I am grateful for this wonderful family ...and their care and support..without which I would never have survived...that, I know.
I was quite happy to retire from my work at PNB, and although I love music very much, as well as ballet, the work had begun to affect my general health. No longer was I thrilled to get up in the morning and go to the theater or the Phelps Center...playing the piano had begun to be physically painful, especially as the hours necessary to keep up one's standard of playing, and rehearse the ballet at the same time were taking their toll. So the day I actually told Peter Boal that perhaps I should stop, he was not surprised...I had already started working half time, instead of full time. And the day I actually did stop and walk out of PNB for the last time as an employee there, I was actually very joyful. Peter told me later that he had never seen anyone so happy to stop working. I was very enthusiastic about the future, and what I would be able to accomplish. Little did I realize what was in store for me.
The first few months I did not practice much...as I have practiced all my life, and decided that I had earned a vacation from the piano. (It isn't necessary to state exactly HOW many years I have practiced and studied...but you can probably guess.) I was looking forward to experiencing Christmas without NUTCRACKER rehearsals and performances. I also had decided to start a blog of my life...including all my experiences with the great artists of the world. There have been so many....my teacher (for one) Sari BIRO, George BALANCHINE (Artistic Director of the New York City Ballet for whom I worked for many years), Jerome ROBBINS (Assistant Director of the NYCB, and choreographer for many well known shows and ballets, including West Side Story, On the Town, etc.), Leonard BERNSTEIN (conductor/composer with whom I worked on a collaboration between him and Jerry Robbins), Rudolph NUREYEV (with whom I worked in Zurich on ballets of his), Mischa BARYSHNIKOV (with whom I worked in NYC and Geneva, Switzerland). While in NYC, I also played for some performances of Margot FONTEYN (who was a world famous British ballerina, from the ROYAL BALLET.
And many more. Here in Seattle, I worked with Kent STOWELL, and Francia RUSSELL for almost 25 years...they were co-directors of Pacific Northwest Ballet....and Kent created the world renowned NUTCRACKER BALLET ....based on Maurice SENDAK'S illustrations and models. (I also worked and became acquainted with him). Then there was my dear friend, Michael JACKSON, who had invited me to go on his first World Tour (the BAD TOUR)...he was definitely one of the most talented, gifted and kind individuals I have ever known...I still mourn his passing...can't quite believe it. (He was larger than life to me).
These are a few of the wonderful people whom I have known and worked. This business of music and dance is a most wonderful environment....almost always interesting and fun as well.
After I started writing my blog....10 chapters....including a chapter devoted to Michael, I began to have more problems walking, and generally getting around. Since I had no clue what was going on with me, I decided to have food delivered ...either by Safeway or Schwann. It was getting more and more difficult to go up and down the 5 steps leading to my unit in the condo building. After a few weeks of this, Emebet Seifu, who worked for me sometimes in my flat, suggested I see her doctor...who would come to my home. (Previously I had declined to go to ANY doctor, as I felt that most were not as knowledgeable as they should be.) Then I fell down in my flat, and had difficulty getting up. This happened about twice before Emebet took action. She brought the doctor to my flat! (She is not one to stand on ceremony). In the meantime my dear little kitty, Missy, had passed away....and I was very sad about that. It was very sudden, she just stopped walking and laid down on the floor. I brought her food and water...but she did not recover...in fact she died that night, trying to utter a little 'meow.' I called my brother the next day to tell him (Missy was originally his cat, whom he had brought to me, before his 3rd visit to Columbia...he didn't want to leave her alone again.) He asked me where I was going to have her buried....and I asked Emebet to bury her at her homestead...which she and Solomon did.
TO CONTINUE: I fell once again in the kitchen....flat on my back, but I didn't break any bones, thank goodness. I crawled to a phone, and called Emebet who came over....she called an ambulance and they came and transported me to Swedish (Ballard) Emergency. After a battery of tests...including a CT scan, MRI, and various others, I was admitted into the hospital. But as I was not ILL....I was not allowed to stay there...and a nursing facility was contacted. That was Queen Anne Health Care Center...nearby. This particular place looked nice on the outside, but inside was a different matter. The caregivers were nice people, but the general standard was quite low, to my mind. And they have a high rating, (not sure how that happened). The food is not very good, there are not enough caregivers on the floor (particularly at night). While I was there, I was referred to a very fine neurologist by good friends, (not by the H. Care Clinic). He had studied my tests.... I had by then concluded that I must have MS (Multiple Schlerosis). He told me I did NOT have MS, but a condition, in his opinion, called HYDROCEPHALUS. This means that water collects in the brain cavities...and does not drain of its own accord. And gradually, over time, parts of one's body cease to work as they once did. That was the source of my increasing inability to walk and my poor balance. Also the soles of my feet started to lose the sensation of feeling. (This showed up in pedaling at the piano....when one pedals, the feet have to be very quick and respond to the ear...so that one's sound is refined, without blurring, etc. It is a crucial element of fine piano playing.) And when I needed to bow on stage, I had problems going upstairs to the stage...and always had to hold the arm or hand of one of the dancers, so I wouldn't fall over when I bowed!!! (Wouldn't that have been pretty!!) This doctor (from Eastern Europe) thought I needed to consult with a neurosurgeon to determine whether I should have a SHUNT installed in my head to regulate the flow of liquid that needed to be drained. He knew a woman who was one of the finest neurosurgeons on the West Coast....and called her. She agreed to see me....and decided I should have a Lumbar Puncture (spinal tap) to help her decide if this surgery would work for me. (This was beginning to sound more and more frightening, as you might imagine. ) But I had the spinal tap....and the result was that I walked much better! So that told her that this procedure would indeed be good for me. And a date for the surgery was set. Now...because of the insurance regulations, this is not as easy as 1, 2, 3, ...my Primary Care Physician (PCP)--had retired and another had taken her place. This doctor really knew very little...and I was concerned. So I began the process of changing PCP's....a huge problem in the world of Medicare and Medicare Advantage plans. I spent many hours on the phone to get that small point nailed down. The PCP is the one who has to actually make the recommendation for surgery...AND they usually know very little about Hydrocephalus, but that doesn't matter. They still have to make the recommendation. And since these doctors were specialists, it was necessary for this lady doctor (PCP) to just take their word for it. Which she did, fortunately.
So I was admitted to the hospital...this time to Swedish in Issaquah. (I chose this hospital because their facilities are excellent, having been there for tests and the lumbar puncture) plus my neurosurgeon practiced from there. The additional factor, was that the food was excellent...I had eaten lunch in their dining room...and was told that the food for the patients was of the same quality!! And there seemed to be enough nursing staff to adequately care for all the patients. (Not so at the Q. Anne H. Care Center).
My surgery was scheduled for February 14, 2012...Valentine's Day. I had many fears about this entire matter, but decided I just wouldn't think about it....and what was supposed to happen, would just happen!!! So that worked for me. I seem to be able to order my mind to focus on whatever I wish, a very great asset.
After this surgery, which turned out well (they said), I returned to the Q. Anne Nursing Home. But I didn't want to stay there....so somehow got into another place. (called KleinGallen). It was marginally better....more personnel, although the food was also not terrific. However, Emebet (bless her heart) ALWAYS brought me food prepared by herself at home. So I always ate well at these establishments, thanks to her. She also brought (upon my request) some Bailey's Irish Cream for me to drink (not a great deal, of course.) Emebet thought it would be better for me NOT to be in a nursing home, but I couldn't live by myself. Her solution was that I live at her home in Shoreline with herself and her family. (Solomon, her husband, and two children....ages 13 & 14....Mesale and Mekbeb [alias - Mickey] are all terrific people. The kids are very well-behaved (mostly), and very entertaining. Solomon is a very intelligent man, who is an activist for Ethiopia, and writes many articles for the Ethiopian newspaper. (He is very well known in the Ethiopian community). Emebet is a well-known chef and caterer...she works almost all the time, sometimes to the detriment to her health. Her cooking skills are unparalled. The birthday party she gave for me in late April, was so appreciated by the people there....many from PNB, and those of my friends who are not from PNB.
And so, on March 1, 2012 I moved into Emebet's home ...where I still reside. However, that is NOT the end of this saga. I began having more trouble with pain in the gall bladder area...and the doctor (naturopath) who is excellent, by the way, ordered an ultrasound scan for me...to determine what was going on. A huge gallstone was found...and I had no idea THAT was there. In all the years I have gone to my PCP physician, that had never been mentioned. It took quite a while for that large stone to have developed...and I wonder, what on earth these doctors know anyway. So again...back to Swedish at Issaquah. The surgeon for that happened to be the assistant surgeon in my brain surgery - because of the tubing that had to be installed with the shunt. Was that fortunate, or what??? He knew exactly where things were, and he decided that my gall bladder was too damaged to remain....so he removed it. After a few days in the hospital, I was able to return to Emebet's home. However, as luck would have it, another wrinkle developed. I had contracted colitis while in the hospital....or nursing home. And got very sick at home, and had to go BACK to the hospital yet again. This time, with a different doctor...an infectious disease doctor. The antibiotic which was prescribed for this ailment is very, very strong....and has to be mixed at the pharmacy. It does not just come in a bottle. And I had to take it for 20 days. When I again left the hospital, supposedly I was more or less ok, they nurses did not give me any of the medicine...neither Emebet nor I thought to ask them for it. So when I needed it, there was none...and the pharmacy nearest me didn't have the proper ingredients for this 'mixture.' That was a bit scary...as one is not supposed to miss any doses of the medicine. However, Emebet drove quite a distance in the rain, to another pharmacy, and managed to get the prescription filled there. She has been unbelievable. I definitely would not be alive today, were it not for her - and her incredible care.
These days I am able to get around with the walker, and I can walk without it as well. I remember the days when I could not even STAND up on my own....let alone take a step. So when I can go into a restaurant on my own two legs, and sit in a chair like a normal person, I celebrate these little victories. For me, they are milestones...and the day will come when I can once again drive my car. The first thing will be to get INTO the car and sit on the seat (without my wheel chair). Did I mention that along the way, I purchased a Complete Mobility Van, which has a ramp that allows a wheel chair access. I walk up the ramp with the walker and then sit in the wheel chair on the passenger side. (The seat has been removed). These vehicles are expensive, but it has been a lifesaver. (It is very costly to call for a cabulance to go to various doctor appointments...so actually this car has been economical as well.) I remember the first time I went to dinner with the entire family to Anthony's Home Port, and was able to look out at the water...and appreciate the sunset.
I have learned many life lessons in this latest journey....ALWAYS APPRECIATE WHAT YOU HAVE, INCLUDING YOUR HEALTH. One never knows what will happen. But you have to be able to get up, dust yourself off, and start all over again....(as the songs lyrics say). I am grateful to get up in the morning...still alive.. look out the window at the beautiful trees around here, and WALK to the dining room...where Solomon has prepared breakfast for the kids (who leave early for school), and me, and whomever else is here. I am grateful for this wonderful family ...and their care and support..without which I would never have survived...that, I know.
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