Hello Troubadourians! In my February column, I told the story of my friend Mark and how he was dealing with having suffered a stroke. That was two months into his recovery, and I think it is time to update the story as we enter month five. In that February column, I speculated—which maybe fantasized—what I might do if I were to find myself in the same, or similar, situation. I realize now just how much of what I wrote was detached from reality. I have to say that by all accounts, Mark is progressing above expectations in his recovery. That said, it is still a very long process. My thoughts were initially that progress would be consistent and somewhat constant. That naïve view came from an uninformed place and encouraged by a friend’s remarkable progress. The reality is that there is so much more going on as to place my once-a-week interactions and observations firmly into simply being encouragement. There are many things that affect the body after a stroke that may not seem connected. There is joint pain, swelling in the limbs that are less active than before, and noticing that things which were automatic before, aren’t anymore. Of course, there are constant questions: how long will it take me to be normal again? And am I going to be normal again? Depression is always there, a specter waiting for an opportunity to cast doubt over even the most positive progress. In the quiet times, we can choose to commit ourselves to a process that may be for the rest of our lives, or we can give in to despair.
Many musicians who suffer a stroke give up because they can’t play like they did before. I understand that. I know how frustrated I allow myself to get when simply having a minor struggle with something during a normal practice session. Yeah, I know its temporary, and in the moment, so I can work through it, but if I imagine myself where I’m facing what could be a permanent impairment—how would I handle that? Could I keep working or would I give up, too?
But do we give up too soon? I am reminded by the late, great jazz guitarist Pat Martino. His story is remarkable. From his Wikipedia page:
In 1980, Martino suffered a hemorrhaged arteriovenous malformation that caused a “near-fatal seizure.” The resulting surgery, which removed part of his brain, left him with amnesia and no recollection or knowledge of his career or how to play the instrument that made him successful. He said he came out of surgery with complete forgetfulness and had to learn to focus on the present rather than the past or the possible future. He had to completely re-learn how to play.
He was subsequently chosen as Guitar Player of the Year in the Down Beat magazine Readers’’ Poll of 2004. In 2006, Mobile Fidelity Sound Lab reissued his album East! on Ultradisc UHR SACD. In 2017, he created a series of educational videos, A Study of the Opposites and How They Manifest on the Guitar.”
I’d like to think that I could be capable of accomplishing the same, or similar, recovery, but I also hope that I never have to find out. Still, all this informs and revises my entire thought process on “What if…” It goes way beyond my initial ideas that assumes, “Well, if I can’t do that, I’ll just pivot and do this instead.” I realize that it was uninformed and fantastical, not respecting the situation that stroke sufferers face and how difficult their lives can be from one minute to the next. To anyone who read that column and was offended, I sincerely apologize.
I consider myself blessed to be a part of Mark’s recovery process. To be there for a friend is a high calling. In other words, that’s what friends are for. I know he would be there for me because he was. Two years ago, I had a serious health condition and Mark called and visited frequently. For Christmas that year, he gifted me a very special Singing Bowl that he had repaired, resurrected from non-functionality to now possessing a remarkably beautiful tone. But I digress… Mark approaches his recovery—which includes relearning to play the guitar—with grace and determination. He is not immune to frustration and borderline depression, but playing music with him every week is excellent therapy for both of us. Pam, the third member of Outliers, also deserves immense credit. She is the catalyst in the unique chemistry that is the Outliers and has known and sung with Mark for 30 years. Singing harmony and playing the guitar is challenging even for a normal healthy person, but Pam has Mark—and me—continuing to play and sing as we did before. I guess if you are encouraged to just do what you do and aren’t constantly being told that something is hard to do, you just do it. The retraining of the neural pathways is essential to Mark’s recovery so “doing what we do” reenforces that rebuilding process. From week to week, we can see that it is working. While there may well be plateaus and setbacks during Mark’s recovery, his progress is trending in a positive direction. Amidst all of this, I have noticed something interesting… Mark is choosing to play some of the most challenging songs in our repertoire, some that we haven’t played live because we didn’t feel we had them worked out to our normal standards. The fearlessness with which he approached these songs surprised and impressed me. He said several times, “That song showed up in my head and I need to play it.” Well then, let’s play it …
As musicians, music is such an important part of all our lives, and we often take it for granted that we are good at it. When confronted with a life-altering event, it serves us well to remember that music goes beyond performance and becomes something spiritual, something healing, something transcendent…
Need to know? Just ask… Charlie (ask.charlie@hotmail.com)
