Musings on Montreal, Pt. 1: The Way I Feel

Hello all. Hope everyone had a good week.

After what felt like an eternity of endless heat & humidity, both here and in Montreal, it finally feels like something approximating autumn. This being New England, of course, that meant receiving three inches of rain in barely 36 hours earlier this week, with an even more powerful storm headed our way tomorrow evening into Monday. Oh well, we badly need the rain. And at least the humidity is finally gone. I'll take that trade. :c)

My nephew C is doing a bit better every day. He's still quite weak, and doesn't have much of an appetite, but he's still slowly improving. Thank you again to those of you checking in on him.

If you've read my most recent posts, you know I've been planing to write about my experience having my surgery with Dr. Brassard in Montreal last month. Amazingly, it was over five weeks ago already; it seems as if it was simultaneously yesterday and a million years ago.

Confession time: I've started this post several times now, only to feel dissatisfied and abandon what I'd written.

I finally realized why: trying to summarize the most important thing I've ever done in my life in a single post is daunting.

So, I won't. :c)

Instead, I think I'll just share my thoughts in more than one post.

How many posts, you ask?

I'm not sure, to be honest. But please feel free to tag along, and we can find out together. For now, follow along below the jump. I'll see you on the other side (as we told each other as our turn came for surgery up in Montreal). :-p

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My Nephew C: On the Mend (Thankfully)

Hello all. Just wanted to post a quick followup to my previous post about my nephew C. I'm happy to report that he's home from the hospital.

My sister C, his mother, is a nurse practitioner, which I suspect is why they let C go home, even though he's still quite ill. He's been staying with my parents in his old bedroom, where he can get the rest he needs in his own bed. And my sister lives next door, so she can monitor his condition.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I don't want to violate C's privacy. That said, I can say that I was badly shaken by how sick he was. C is 24 years old, in excellent shape, and in good health overall. It was scary, and quite sobering, to see how quickly his condition deteriorated. I try not to think about what would have happened had my sister not trusted her instincts and gone in to check on him once he had been sick for four days (C lives in Boston, while she lives about a half-hour outside the city).

If you could, please continue to keep C in your thoughts; he's been through a lot, and will likely be recuperating for some time. I'd like to thank Alice, Halle, my colleague M, and my manager L, among others, who have been checking in regularly to ask about C. It means a great to myself, my sister, and to C.

I went over to say hello when he got home from the hospital. We only spoke for a few minutes, as he was exhausted. He told me his mother had passed along the greetings from everyone, and asked me to thank them all on his behalf. I promised I would, but he was dozing off before I finished answering.

I reached over and shut off the light next to his bed, then headed for the door. Just before I closed it I heard his voice:

"Auntie?"

I stopped and turned.

"Hey, C. I'm still here."

"I just wanted to say... you have really good friends, Auntie."

Yes, I do, C. Yes I do.

***

Now that C is home where he belongs, I'm hoping to finally finish my post about Montreal in the next day or two. Have a good week 'til then, everyone. And give your loved ones a hug. Just because.

***

This Greg Brown song, from his 1988 album One More Goodnight Kiss, has been running through my head the past 10 days. You'll understand why when you listen to it. Prepare to be moved:

As a bonus, here's "Daughters," the first Greg Brown song I ever heard, from his second album, 1983's The Iowa Waltz. It was this verse that made - and still makes - the hairs on my neck stand on end:

When my daughter who is tall now was not so tall
One night we were driving home in the truck
And I was sad because I was busted and disgusted
And she looked out the window and said,
"Dad, the moon is coming home with us"
She said, "Dad, the moon is coming home with us"

I'm a man who's rich in daughters
And if by some wild chance I get rich in money
Like another two thou a year, or even one thou a year
I'm gonna look into havin' some more daughters

A Brief Post About My Nephew C

Hi everyone. Just a very brief post to apologize for my recent absence. I'm doing well, and gradually getting my strength back, although I still tire quite easily. I'll write more about that, as well as the long-promised post about my time in Montreal at Dr. Brassard's clinic, very soon.

The reason I haven't posted is because my nephew C (from the Conversations with C series on my blog) has been quite ill the past ten days. I don't want to go into details, out of respect for his privacy, but he was very, very sick. He is improving, thankfully, although he still has a ways to go.

He's been a trouper, as always, but he could really use all of the positive energy you can send his way. He is a remarkable young man, as anyone who's read my posts about him can tell. So, if you could, please keep him in your thoughts; I would be grateful. Thank you, everyone, and have a good week. Hopefully I'll have positive news to post about C very soon. :c)

Checking In, and Mourning Mr. Petty

Hi everyone. Hope you are all well. This is a very brief post to say thank you to everyone who has left comments and/or contacted me privately about my surgery in Montreal. Thank you all; it means a great deal. Big hugs to all of you! xoxoxo

I'll write more soon about my entire Montreal experience (hopefully tomorrow, in fact), but the headline is that I'm doing well overall. I'm back in the Boston area, slowly healing day by day. I have some minor discomfort, and get tired very easily. I've learned the hard way - repeatedly lol - not to push myself too far, too fast, and that has proved to be a wise decision. Again, I'll write more about it in my next post, but I'm playing it same and taking the long view.

I also want to mention how deeply saddened I was, and am, by the sudden death of Tom Petty on Monday. His music means a great deal to me; in fact, I read the excellent biography Warren Zanes wrote about him while I was in Montreal, specifically holding off on reading it for nearly a year so I could do so. I spent much of my time there, and this week, listening to his amazing catalogue and marveling at his consistency over a 40-year career.

Of all of his work - and he never made a bad album, or even a mediocre one, in his entire career - his 1981 album Hard Promises in particular means a great deal to me.

I was in high school when it came out, locked in an incredibly painful struggle with myself (even if I didn't fully understand its cause at the time), one that would take many years to resolve. I remember how comforting the entire album was, particularly the song "Insider."

He originally wrote it for Stevie Nicks when she requested a song for what became her debut album; when he played it for her, she told him she couldn't take it because it was clearly such an intensely personal song, but that she would be honored to sing it with him - which she did:

I've listened to "Insider" countless times over the years. It helped a lonely, confused, frightened 15-year-old realize that someone else understood how she felt and let her know that she, too, could crawl through the briars. That she, too, could persevere - that she could also be an Insider. Thank you for that, Tom. RIP.