Sunshine, dressing, and Birdland

I just need to do one more set of my physio exercises, and then I’m taking my morphine tablet and falling asleep. A physiotherapist is coming to the house tomorrow morning to put me through my paces, so I want to be up for the challenge.

I was outside on our deck today for a short time to lie like a lizard in the sun. It felt good. And my good neighbour, Bertrand, dropped by for a visit. We talked about sailboats, surgery, wine, and the other things that Bertrand and I talk about.

The real adventure today was the changing of the dressing on my incision. This was Corinne’s first attempt and she did well. I didn’t contribute much. I just lay there and gave the occasional yelp as the old bits of tape were pulled from my tender, shaved butt. I thought it best that I stay quiet and not contribute advice. Corinne brought out the notebook where she had carefully documented the instructions from Priscilla the nurse. Corinne, being a perfectionist, was critical of her own work, but I’m happy with my new dressing. Maybe it has a few wrinkles, but that just gives it character. On Thursday, another nurse, Claudie, will be here to examine me and give Corinne another lesson.

Yesterday, our friend Graeme Webb asked if I can play trumpet lying down. Yes, Graeme, I can.

The poster that is farthest to the right in the picture reminds me of a story. The caption is “Miles Davis at Birdland.” A couple of years ago, my mother-in-law, Fran, was here for Christmas. She looked at the poster on the wall and said, “I was there.” Fran was in her 90s and exhibiting some confusion. “Of course you were there, Fran,” I humoured her. I had known Fran for 40 years, and in all that time she never mentioned Miles Davis. I didn’t believe her, but questioned her further. She told me that in 1954 she visited New York City with Earl (“Earl the Pearl” as she referred to him after their divorce). Earl’s friends had told him that he couldn’t visit New York without seeing Miles Davis at Birdland. Fran just remembers a smokey place with lousy food and some guy  playing the trumpet. It didn’t make an impression on her, and she only remembered it when she saw the poster.  I went online and learned that Miles was indeed playing at Birdland in 1954 during the time of Fran’s visit. She really was there!