NASM

Every school of music is accredited - or not - by an organization called the National Association of Schools of Music (NASM). Once every 10 years NASM sends reviewers to visit us for a few days, observing what we do and how well we do it.

They were on campus Monday and Tuesday, meeting with faculty, students, the dean, and the provost. They also met with me for several extended sessions, with many questions about the academic side of our music programs.

I was asked things like, You cleared this student to graduate in Spring of 2007, yet she never took vocal pedagogy, a course required for her major. How do you justify this?

They were pretty intense, but it was still fun to talk with people I'd only just met, yet who understand my job better than almost anyone I know.

With impressively bad timing, while the reviewers were milling about, I received a visit from the student who sometimes cries and throws fits in my office. He's not enrolled in any classes this semester, so I was surprised to see him.

He said he'd just been to another office on campus, and they'd called the police on him. (He was vague as to why they did this.) The police escorted him off campus, but he returned and came to see me in my office.

He was very upset, crying and shouting things like "What the fuck is wrong with this school? This school sucks!" Not unusual behavior for him, and luckily the reviewers didn't witness it.

Unstable people have an entropic effect on their surroundings. What they touch becomes less organized.

They also have a form of radar. They seem to know the worst possible moment to make an entrance. It's almost a gift, like an extrasensory perception that draws them toward intense situations. They apparently have no control over their strong sense of timing. It uses them, they don't use it. And it uses them for evil, not good.

~~~~~~~

My mother's coronary catheterization came back negative, which is good news, and surprising. There's now talk of her being discharged/transferred to another facility closer to her home.

My mother's health, part two

As I understand it, there are three main issues with her health:

1. The diagnosis has undergone several revisions, but it's now confirmed she has Goodpasture's Syndrome. This is manageable, though she'll need dialysis from now on.

2. There is a mass in her kidneys, apparently unrelated to the renal failure, and no one knows what it is. There are ways of investigating it, but not without risk.

3. There now seems to be a problem with her heart. She's undergoing a heart catheterization tomorrow morning at 8:00.

My mother's health

My mother's kidneys still aren't working. She has other health problems too, some of which appear to be unrelated to the renal failure. She was moved from SSH to a hospital in Boston.

The current main diagnosis is something called hemolytic-uremic syndrome (HUS), though in the last few days her doctors have hinted that they're still looking for something which would explain all of her symptoms.

I'm back in Bedlam now. My father and sister are with her every day, supporting her, monitoring her various numbers, gathering information from nurses and doctors.

Thanks to everyone for the support and kindness you've shown since this began. I'll keep you updated.

In morbid defense of the good times

At the beginning of life there's a period of rapid growth, which is followed by a long plateau, which is followed by decay and disintegration.

1. growth
2. the long plateau
3. decay

These three phases aren't distinct and orderly, but overlap.

A few weeks ago Mark, formerly of markandwanda, was talking about the third phase and how, during certain periods of time, it accelerates.

The movie Synecdoche, NY is about this (and much else besides). It takes place in a world where decay is real and not something we blithely pay lip service to.

I'm not at the end of my long plateau, but I'm near or past the midpoint. The decline is less theoretical now.

Some days we wake up feeling great, other days we wake up feeling... off. We have a cold, our body aches, or there's some strange new unexplained unpleasantness we have to deal with. But whatever happens, our experience tells us we'll feel better tomorrow, or soon enough. And usually without help from a doctor.

But one morning we'll wake up not feeling our best, and things won't improve. We'll never again feel as good as we felt yesterday. The plateau begins its decline. And this sort of thing is happening all the time.

The only thing that seems to help is this: More good times. Make the most of what you have and live until you don't.

A phonecall late last night: my mother's kidneys have shut down. She's in the critical care unit of SSH, on dialysis. I'm flying there tomorrow morning.