oboeinsight

I am home. The rehearsal began 42 minutes ago. I only now woke up from more sleeping.

What happened: My carpool buddy agreed to drive, even though it wasn’t her turn. She did need to get gas, though. She suggested i call the contractor to see if he really wanted me there — I suppose I could be exposing everyone else to something, eh? He said (well his wife, since I spoke with her), “Do what you need to do. It’s okay.” Or some such thing. At that very moment I looked up at my friend and said, “Um, I think you’d better take me home.”

And just in time, too.

Yep … losing more weight was in the plan today, I guess. I couldn’t believe I had anything LEFT in this stomach ‘o mine. But I did.

So now I’m home. Aching like you would not believe. I can’t continue to use the computer because the light hurts my eyes. (Fever.)

I so rarely miss a rehearsal or performance. All I could say on the drive back to my house was, “I’m sorry. This is so stupid.”

Yeah, I think of it as my “fault”.

I also said, “I owe you a box of chocolates!”

And Carolyn L., I really do! 🙂 (Oh, and Kathy, I’m SO sorry! I hate leaving the principal oboist in a lurch.)

I’ve been feeling a bit “buggy” since Sunday, but nothing terribly worrisome. Until today. While sitting at Kaiser waiting for my mom to have a procedure (don’t you love that word?) I knew something was up. Yes indeed, something was awry. I thought a bit of food might help (hadn’t bothered before I left home) but that didn’t change anything. When mom was done she, my sister Carolyn and I went to have a snack. That wasn’t a good choice either I guess.

So I went home. To bed. For the entire day. Until about an hour ago when finally everything decided to “revisit” my mouth… sorry to be so crass … and come back out the way I shoved the food in.

But relief!

Sometimes it just takes getting rid of all that is in my stomach and I’m praying that’s the case today, because I leave in 45 minutes for a 3 hour rehearsal in San Francisco tonight! No food will go in this body today, though, that’s for sure.

But freelance musicians don’t get sick pay. You play, they pay. You don’t, they won’t. And, more importantly, bagging a final dress rehearsal only 3 hours before the start of a rehearsal is really not cool.

So I’ve decided I’m better. I’ve decided I will be well. I can do this, I can do this, I can do this.

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