Making ready

My visits to the hand therapist are a bit like a weekly weigh-in at Weight Watchers.

Physiotherapist Mark measures my "forward and back" wrist angles and pronounces my results:

"A 3-degree improvement....a 2-degree improvement..."

The numbers seem so insignificant that my face falls.  He explains "That equals a 5-degree increase in range".  Put that way, it sounds more encouraging.

The X-rays show a bone that's mending well.

I receive the go-ahead to start driving again.  Hooray - it's two months since I drove a car.  But when I get home there is something wrong with my vehicle.  My husband takes it to the service centre, where it will remain over the weekend.  Another few days of begging lifts and catching buses.

Meanwhile, we are making ready for our first visit to Brazil.

We both need vaccinations.  I've lost a few weeks as a result of the wrist surgery, and we just scrape in to the six-week lead-time for the shots.  I manage to make an after-hours appointment for my husband.  The doctor advises me not to have the Yellow Fever shot during my performance week, in case I suffer a reaction.  I present at the clinic on the Monday morning after the Saturday performance.  Neither of us reacts to the Yellow Fever.  And this immunisation is for life.

The travel agent informs me that it could take twenty working days to obtain our visas.  We need to obtain photos of a specified size.  We must state where we are staying - but our accommodation hasn't yet been booked.  Quickly we select a hotel in Rio.  My husband must supply a letter of invitation from the conference he is attending.  We both have to sign the visa papers.  I deliver everything to the travel agent and hold my breath.  For about a week.  Then she emails me to say the visas have arrived, and I can call in anytime to collect our passports.

Eneias sends me the lyrics of a song he has written.  He wants me to translate it into English.  It is the Kangaroo Samba.  Straight away I can see that a literal translation will not suffice.  I need to write a piece of poetry.  I let some ideas rumble around in my brain, but still no inspiration strikes.

He also asks me to learn some extra songs.  I know a couple of these, but I will need to learn the lyrics - in Portuguese.  I guess the flight will be very long, and this will give me something to do.

I continue with my Portuguese language study.  It's the school holidays, but I do some lessons with my phone app, and also try to read a children's book that I bought in Portugal.  It's at the right level for me.

I begin to focus my singing practise on my Brazilian repertoire.

Eneias says they are all looking forward to my visit.

I am bursting with excitement.



Last week Gihan Perera interviewed me about the story so far.  Click on the link below to listen to the interview:

https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/7372437/IMatter-AConcertInRio-ShelleyDunstone-4433.mp3

It's all in the wrist action

After my first week of exercises to mobilise my broken wrist, I return to the physiotherapist.

He measures the angles I can achieve - forward, back, inwards, outwards.

My results are announced - an improvement of about twelve degrees in each direction.

This, he declares, is remarkable progress. 

I beam with pride at my achievement.

But at the next visit, he is less impressed.  My forearm rotations have progressed well, but the forward and back movements have only increased by one degree.

One lousy degree?  After a whole week of painful exercises, four times a day?

As punishment, I must now bend my wrist more forcibly, holding for fifteen seconds instead of ten.

He shows me how.  I breathe deeply and whisper that the pain is eye-watering.  

"Does that mean you're crying?  Good", he says, flashing his charming smile.  

Our cabaret show Kabarett is held on two consecutive weekends.  The venue gives us a technical rehearsal on the Thursday morning before the first show.  This gives us two hours to work with Matt, the sound and lighting technician, to select the lighting for each scene, and to inform him of any sound effects and anything else we require.  Our excellent pianist, Ed, joins the three of us for this rehearsal.  

My piece, "A French Romance" is about twenty minutes long, consisting of four songs interspersed with a story.  In addition to the general lighting effects, two things get added as a result of the tech rehearsal.  The first relates to my description of a "hotel from hell" where a bright streetlight shines into the room through a curtainless window.  At this point Matt switches on a bright light that shines right in my eyes.  It produces a terrific reflex action - my arm goes up to block the light, and I grimace and groan.  No acting is required.   The second applies to the song "Once Upon A Summertime" which illustrates my fantasy of a romance in Paris.  In the middle of the song I sing a verse in French, and at that point Ed hits a button on his keyboard which produces a piano accordion effect.  It sounds so funny, we all fall about laughing.  

I decide to leave the brace off my arm for the duration of the show, as it would distract the audience from the story.  But I keep the microphone on its stand, because I don't feel confident of lifting it out or passing it from one hand to the other.  The wrist works well enough to express some simple gestures, but afterwards, a friend says it looked a bit sore.  

The room is full for both shows.  I feel reasonably pleased with my piece.

I'm glad to have had this performance opportunity; that my injury didn't cause me to cancel.  It's important to perform regularly, to maintain your confidence on stage.  Collaborating with other artists has proved to be an excellent way to put a show together and to fill the room.  

But a month after surgery, my wrist is still very stiff and swollen.  It doesn't move much at all.  The hand looks like something that belongs to a shop mannequin.  I'm not driving yet, and suspect I won't be for a while.

I seriously need some wrist action.