A late autumn visitor to Connie’s room
Hello friends and family,
There’s snow in Upstate New York and there’s snow in the Sierra Nevada. Blustery as can be.
But I come here to warm your hearts with good updates on the Connie front.
We had a (virtual) family meeting with her care team today at Cayuga Nursing and Rehab. Mom is doing HOURS of rehab every day. She’s starting to walk on her own (sometimes with help). She’s also working on the treadmill and other more intensive workouts in short bursts. Her PT, Doctor Manoj Sharma, said, “I love working with Connie.” He share’s our belief that she can work her way to full independence, no matter the distance.
He told us that there is a man who comes to play the piano at the rehab. Mom joyfully listens every time. My dad said Connie even sat down at the piano and played part of a sonata from memory. However, she hasn’t really felt like playing the piano much. It might be just too tough to address at this point, given that before this whole ordeal, she was working VERY hard and playing VERY often and was at such a high level of musicality. (I mean that with no exaggeration). But again, there were moments when we weren’t sure what level of dexterity she would ever regain, so plunking a sonata from memory feels like a big achievement.
*As an aside, Michelle and I are getting a piano at our house in Reno. We both want to work to play new songs (or old!) for Mom whenever we see her forever forward.
Next up on the list of achievements: eating! Connie has begun to eat “mechanically softened foods.” Not puréed like from a blender, but just squished enough with a fork to make it easier. Sweet potatoes, pudding, chopped up meat balls were a few things thrown on the list. She’s regaining her appetite, slowly. This is all still VERY new, but promising, according to Mia who talked to her nutritionist. Michelle and I will be home to Cortland next week for Thanksgiving with Jake and Mindy and Ellie, too. We’ll bring her some yummy stuff. Part of connecting her brain to her stomach is the practice of eating together. We take that for granted all the time. (I know I do, and I’m accusing you, too.) So try to take a break and look across the table from whomever you’re eating with next to soak in that moment — tastes, sounds, good company, chewing, table settings and table wares. So much coordination involved. So much happening voluntarily and involuntarily; cognitively but on autopilot. lol Every bite you eat is a damn miracle.
Mom’s cognition is still a little all over the place. She can get off track or off topic easily. She mixes up words. Some things that are easy, if she thinks too hard about it, she can’t do it. Some things that are difficult, she will surprise you with and do it just like she’s done for 70 years. She’s come so far in the last few weeks. The doctors say there is a really recognizable amount of progress that will happen in the first four to six months. We say, keep the progress coming
I’ve talked to her on the phone a few times. There are moments were are communicating with perfect clarity. Sounds and feels like any phone call we’ve ever had. And then there are whole moments lost to abstraction and streaming consciousness.
She has mood swings. Not everyone has witnessed them. She’s always full of joy and gratitude when she has her visitors. But the nurses have seen them. The specialists have seen hints of them. Dad has seen them, certainly. Traumatic brain injuries are a trip, man. Just a metaphor to anything. Some things and nothing make sense at the same time…
What else — OH I wanted to share some moments that happened in the last month with past students of Mrs. Starmer:
Most recently, former student Adam Decker, sang the national anthem at the Cortaca Jug Game. He’s had an illustrious music career, but when I told Mom about him singing it she perked up the way she always does when she hears the successes of former students. Mom is an Ithaca College Alum (as am I, as is Adam!) Dad’s a Cortland faculty alum. Mom taught at C-State, too for that matter. It wasn’t a great day to be a Bomber this year.
A tribute to Constance Starmer from Lisa Frare
Another former student and life-long friend of our family, Lisa Frare, sent this photo she added to a dia de los muertos ofrenda at a symphony concert (I assume San Francisco Symphony, but Lisa travels the world, so it could be any symphony, honestly). Lisa is a great musician, singer, and has great taste. She took piano from Connie from 4th grade onward. To this day and long before Mom’s aneurysm she gives Connie so much genuine love and gratitude, laughs and great banter. I mean, how are all these people still so connected to their elementary music teacher? Obviously Lisa and I are forever friends, but the strength of connection, founded on music, between my mother and so many of her students over the years never ceases to give me pause.
And one more former student and gem of a human being is Caleb Wright. Caleb and his whole family are some standouts in my Mom’s long music career. Just ask her.
Caleb has reached out a bunch about my Mom since August.
He sent me the photo above with the following message on November 4: “Hey man! I hope all is well. I have a friend who does tattoos and I got this tattoo of a music note on my hand in honor of your mom and all that she means to me! She brought outa confidence in my music talents and simply just a love for music I never knew I could have! I had no idea today was her birthday so that's actually so cool! Happy birthday to your mom!”
I’ve enjoyed being in touch with Caleb. This man is an athlete, a coach, an author, a podcaster, more... I know he’s impacting another generation with his leadership and empathy the way his mentors and role models have helped shape him. And the fact that he has time to reflect on my mom … His messages have given me the chills multiple times. Look up his book!
Alright folks. That’s a lot of typing. I’ve sorta had this blog open for the last few days and just keep sitting down and trying to hit publish, but then I get a little further. but then I get distracted… Thank you all for your well wishes. They’re constant, they’re heartfelt.
The next writing will be from some in-person observations for the first time since September! We’re going bring her motivation and music, stories and laughter, and pie…
Happy Thanksgiving yall. Hug each other tightly. Tight as you can. A second or two longer than last time you hugged this person. And then do it to the next. Lots of eye contact that the dinner table. lol. Hang your politics on the coat hanger at the door (I don’t have to remind you). And no shoes on the carpet.
Cheers,
Luka
Oh one more anecdote from this week: Our good friend Jeff Connor is an extremely talent musician, song writer, performer — the whole package. He lives in South Lake Tahoe (kinda. he’s on the road these days), but he’s from Skaneateles, New York. My parents caught one of his shows a couple summers ago. The show was memorable for them. For all of us.
This week he performed in Reno at this intimate living room gathering that happens monthly at another friend’s house. He barely knew anyone else in the room besides us, and he knocked everyone’s socks off (HEY, what did I tell you about the shoes on the carpet?!)
A couple songs in, he dedicated a song to my mom— One he'‘s written. It’s a song from a boy to his mother. It brought a few people to tears. Mostly me. The power of music, man.
I asked Jeff to record it into a voice memo so I can play it for Connie when we get to her. And tell her this story.
