The surgeon who re-arranged my jaw is Mr Hall, not Dr Hall. It’s one of those British medical peculiarities. I know his first name but have never aspired to use it. Our meetings have been on his territory where – as far as I’m concerned – he’s emperor, if not Lord God Almighty.
He had good news for me on Thursday. For the moment there were no continuing signs of malignancy and this explained why – just before he started to talk to me – a nurse slipped into the room, took a seat in front of me, and radiated a beaming smile that her covid mask failed to hide. And why not? Shared happiness can be a scarce commodity. Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.
Which isn’t to say all is done and dusted. The next check-up is in mid-November.
Any questions? he asked. I mentioned my last singing lesson. That I wasn’t yet able to open my mouth wide enough for the higher notes, as before. Should I push against the restraint? I paused, then added, “Actually, my teacher taught me how to reach those notes with a half-wide mouth.” Said it deliberately.
“The body finds ways to adapt,” he observed.
“How far did you get?” Not wanting to waste his time, but suspecting he’d want to answer.
His mother had wanted him to become a singer. He’d joined a choir. But the academic grind of a degree in dentistry plus the long hours of being a houseman had squeezed out music.
Briefly I swapped roles with him. “Eventually you’ll retire. My singing teacher said, age is not a factor, only desire matters. I started when I was eighty. These days I’m singing Schubert and Brahms.”
He nodded distantly. I was out the door. If he wants to, he will.
MEDICAL DETAIL. Mr Hall (broddling about in my mouth): When did you last eat corn-on-the-cob?
RR: Probably the Mexican takeaway at the weekend.
Mr Hall: (To nurse). Tweezers please. (Broddles some more) Aha! (Reveals the empty shell of a corn kernel trapped in my mouth for three days.)
RR: (Dubiously). I suppose I could re-eat it.
The kernel drops to the floor and is lost to further examination.
I'm glad your follow up visit with the doctor had good news, no continuing signs of malignancy. I hope you can eventually open your mouth as wide as you would like to sing all you have to sing out! Take care there and stay well.
ReplyDeleterobin andrea: Perversely I find myself experimenting with hitting higher notes through a half-wide mouth. It tends to eliminate any hint of strain.
DeleteLeonard Cohen hardly opened his mouth at all, and managed quite a career, but then he hardly ever got out of his lower register. He wasn't singing Schubert, either---but then it would have been very interesting if he had. Congrats on the good news...hang in there, many notes to be warbled in the future.
ReplyDeleteSandi: During the first couple of years of lessons I found myself imitating the pro operatic and lieder ingers who shared my repertoire: Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau (baritone), Marti Tavela (bass) and - later - Jonas Kauffman (tenor). Patiently V, my teacher, sought to guide me away from "these darker voices" and to look for my "own voice". This took quite some time but when it happened it was something I could be proud of and I have never been tempted to duplicate anyone else's timbre since.
DeleteCongratulations RR on an all clear prognosis - very good news at 85. I do hope you will be able to continue your singing (does your teacher have any comments about this?).
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed Sandi's comment re Leonard Cohen, but I somehow cannot see you emulating the "old groaner", however delightful his songs are! (were)
Avus: Any more than I'd be tempted to emulate Elvis, Bob Dylan or Frank Sinatra. Once I'd identified and then (much more difficult) learned to re-create my own voice - however imperfect - I couldn't see any fun in being a sub-standard popper. This hasn't, however, stopped me working on certain popular songs that appeal to me: Cole Porter's Every time we say goodbye, Ewan McColl's The first time ever I saw your face, and the sea shanty Leave her Johnnie, leave her.. The song itself being more important than the singer.
DeleteI enjoyed this. You do have a way with words (and dialogue).
ReplyDeleteColette: Old age has a way of eroding imagination, but this time the raw material was served on a plate. It just needed a little polishing.
ReplyDeleteTHREE DAYS! Didn't it drive you mad?
ReplyDeleteElla singing Cole Porter's 'Every time' is one of my all-time favourites,but so sad. (Glad to read that having posted about no fun you had a great deal of it feasting with your family.)
Garden: You might well wonder how I could harbour the corn kernel for three days; in fact I was unaware of it. What I was aware of - a supreme irritation - were the loose strands of sutures still attached to my gums yet floating backwards and forwards like the fronds of a sea anemone. These sutures are said to be soluble yet several still remain, an irresistible temptation to the tip of my tongue.
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