Rock Concerts, Orchestra Concerts, and Music Therapy

I really wanted to be a fountain of optimism through this whole appendicitis ordeal. We had so much to be grateful for, it seemed like my duty to simply grin and bear the additional burdens that come with a suddenly incapacitated husband. There was no justification for me to whine or complain--he was the one who had to deal with all the physical discomfort, after all.

But as soon as I was behind the wheel, driving myself and Forest down to Denver for the much-anticipated Pearl Jam concert, the intended fountain of optimism turned into more of a fountain of tears and self-pity. I guess I have never been good at faking cheerfulness in front of my husband, and when the time came for me to put on a happy face and have "fun" and "relax," I just couldn't do it. There was so much anxiety built up from preparing to leave three small children overnight, anxiety about Forest's recovery, and anxiety about navigating through Denver traffic--any emotional facade didn't stand a chance. This was not the way I had envisioned our rock concert date--or that whole week--and all I wanted to do was cry about it.

I managed to pull myself together so we could try to enjoy a late lunch together in Westminster. Perhaps I could put on a smile after all. Then back at the hotel, right before we planned to leave and pick up our tickets, I realized I had failed to pack an essential part of my breast pump, and I burst into tears again. Poor Forest probably thought we were never going to make it to the concert.

But we did. And here are some pictures to prove it. This is Forest with our tickets:

This is Forest icing his abdomen before heading into line for the show:

This is a picture of us together before the concert. Can you tell that I've been crying and that Forest just had his appendix removed?

Here is Pearl Jam:

Mike McCready playing guitar behind his back:

Eddie Vedder, always a crowd-pleaser:

We sat on the Stone Gossard side of the stage.

Here are the swinging green lanterns, just before one of them shattered (as you would expect from a good rock concert).

 

Eddie and his adoring fans:

Eddie on drums:

Boom Gaspar on organ:

I kept waiting to see if Forest would become uncomfortable enough that we would need to leave, but he really was just rocking on. There is such a thing as music therapy, I guess, and for Forest it would be a Pearl Jam concert. So I'm glad we got him there, ice packs and all, and that my tears did not completely wash us out.

A couple of nights later it was my turn to take stage for an orchestra concert. Forest, Carol, Ramona, Mika, and Paula all came to see me play.

It wasn't my best performance--I was overtired and had missed too much rehearsal time for this particular set of repertoire. But it made me happy that my family was there to support me, and it was still fun to make some music, even if it wasn't perfect. I think maybe that is my kind of music therapy.