Liner Notes...
...A volunteer musician plays Moonlight Sonata at 6:30 PM in the lobby. It's dark already. I watch the people come and go. Patients wheel IV carts as they traverse the atrium. Too many are alone. I have spent the last five days, along with my parents here with my little brother. Every step of the way I walk with him offering support, encouragement, humor and a shoulder. I think that he is lucky to have a support group to lean on and to pull him.
Pachelbel's Canon – A camera crew is here to film the pianist performing for the patients. She plays beautifully but there are no applause. You feel like you are walking a tight rope here. Each person who walks through the doors of MD Anderson is in a desperate situation. The stress level is palpable and laughter is rarely heard in these halls. Who can blame them? But there is more. You rarely see people cry here either. That happens behind closed doors.
Again there are no applause for the musician. Everyone is polite, not necessarily friendly but polite. Glances are fleeting and stares are non-existent. Every once in a while conversation will spark and you are received graciously. We are all on the same side but can only fight for our team. At times I see eyes set with grim determination and at other times only hopelessness.
She plays Mozart while the audience stares blankly at the floor or across the room. I understand her role. Music is perhaps the greatest distraction in the world. It expresses the human experience in ways language cannot. But I can’t help noticing just how short it falls of helping these people. As they walk away from the piano I only see the two faces described earlier. Determination and Hopelessness.
The camera crew is still here. I can’t imagine why. They should celebrate the surgeon who saved my brother’s life yesterday not a simple musician. God bless him.
|
