The hospital is in E flat major

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It’s odd that I don’t write much about music, considering that my degrees are in music and that music has been the focus of all my education, and the only activity in which I participated significantly, ever. Music defined my entire existence for about 7 years after high school.  

I always had a good sense of pitch, and before I graduated HS I could tell you what note was being played–as long as it was on the flute. Different notes have different tone qualities on the flute, and I knew what they were. C# is exceptionally fuzzy and bright, the B-flat tuning pitch is kind of shrill and whiny, that kind of thing. In college that developed into relative pitch. These days I have what I call “imperfect pitch” because I’m not 100%…but basically it’s learned perfect pitch. People who learn perfect pitch do so by learning to recognize the tone quality implicit in the pitch level, not just in one instrument but in general. That’s more or less what I do.

Anyway, I don’t talk about music much online, but it is implicit in my life. No doubt some of you will roll your eyes when I tell you that I’ve spent this PICU stay humming and identifying the pitches of the various alert bells.

Heart beep: E-flat
Monitor alarm: G
All clear: D

Poor little Julianna is restless today. I made them give her something to help her sleep this morning, because she was hurling herself around on the crib, incapable of settling down. The oxygen tube, the 5 or 6 joints coming off the IV on her neck, the various plastic tubes, kept getting stuck behind her back.  Even now, in her sleep, she tosses her head back and forth with tiny grunts. I got permission to hold her, but she didn’t tolerate that very long. It did help calm her down, at least. I tried to give her water but she wants nothing to do with it. I can’t help thinking she’s very weak and she needs some calories. That’s how I felt after Nicholas was born. They had me on fluids and sugar through the IV, but it’s not the same as eating and drinking. You never knew broth made from chicken bouillion could taste so good.

Anyway, that’s where we are this morning. If I get ambitious (and my children let me), I’ll write on a non-hospital subject later.

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