March 30, 2005. It was less than a month before I would be traveling from Denver to California to undergo Deep Brain Stimulation (DBS) surgery for Parkinson’s Disease (PD). When I stopped by the music studio on that Tuesday, Mike, my accordion teacher, was picking up a shipment of new Italian accordions at the airport. Chad, his son, also a musician, teacher and performer, warmly greeted me with his usual “Hey, what’s going on?” I was there to pick up a copy of the sheet music, “The Continental,” one of my selections for the music contest in August. Chad and I secretly knew that most likely I would neither be playing nor dancing “The Continental” by then. It was a make-believe game.
“My Dad told me about your surgery for Parkinson’s. Are you excited?” Chad asked with a twinkle in his eye. “More scared than excited,” I mumbled trying to conceal the fear in my voice. I knew if Chad were in my shoes, he would be excited. He is the person who always jumps from the highest diving board and perpetually sees the glass as more than half full.
“I’m doing pretty well in dealing with my Crohn’s Disease,” Chad somberly reported. What? Had I missed the detour on our conversation path? I knew that Chad’s sister, Kim, had Crohn’s, but not Chad. “Yeah, they need to test my younger brother, Derek, too. It runs in families.”
I learned from Chad that Crohn’s Disease is a serious inflammatory disease of the gastrointestinal tract. We had a sobering conversation about the realities of living with a chronic disease, including topics such as hating that word, ‘chronic’, the symptoms, the juggling of meds with the devastating side effects and attempts at controlling the uncontrollable. “They say that 80% of Crohn’s patients will have bowel surgery in their lifetime,” reflected Chad. I silently thought of some anal humor as a response, knowing that Chad would laugh; however, I realized it was bad timing. “It’s ironic,” said Chad, with the spark back in his voice, “every other aspect of my life is going so well. I’m getting married in August. Musically, I’m doing better than ever, with gigs in Toronto and New York. But, I couldn’t handle this life without my music.” I nodded in silent agreement.
“You know, I’m going to reward myself with a greasy ol’ double cheeseburger once I stick to the program for awhile,” asserted Chad. A year ago, who would imagine that he would even be discussing a cheeseburger on a Tuesday afternoon?
Chad’s cell phone rang with one of his students calling about his lesson and bringing us back to reality. The magical moments vanished like vapor. As I was leaving, his parting words, “see it as an adventure,” reverberated in my head.
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