Author: Emily Wright

botox diary, part 2

  It’s been just over two weeks since the injections, and as expected, I’m in a whole lotta pain. It’s like plate tectonics: one thing has moved, and the other parts are absolutely freaking out. It’s unpleasant nostalgia, as this is a concentrated version of the initial presentation of many of my symptoms. This time capsule of pain sent from my 13 year old self includes: intense burning in my upper back deep soreness through the left wrist left arm weakness hypersensitivity on the underside of the left arm I’m playing 20-45 minutes most days, mostly with students, and cello...

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botox diary, part 1

United Healthcare waited until I had to resign (or was fired from) every cello position before approving the Botox injections. I now know it’s a common tactic- an insurance company will try to wait and obfuscate until someone who needs an expensive treatment just goes away. For very sick people, it means insurers would rather someone die than receive treatment, simply because it doesn’t fit into the tidy collusion model with drug makers and hospitals. Capitalism might be good at creating a few dozen billionaires, but it seems like it’s not good for the soul. Living, dying, and quality...

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plowing the fields

One of my students is really in the thick of things. She’s working on the Swan AND the Sarabande from the 3rd Suite. Like many who came before her, the Swan is this wonderful elixir: it challenges and comforts, it’s a tool for channeling expression and technique, and above all, is a reward for attaining a certain level of ability and poise on the instrument. The Sarabande, however…there’s just nothing to prepare you for it, and the first time studying it is far removed from the silken glamorous promise it holds for some point in the (seemingly) distant future....

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wee update

There hasn’t been much cello-y news until now. Since my last post, I’ve been seen by an amazing physical therapist who works with a bunch of the NHL guys. He did some manual decompression of my neck and back, and for about ten minutes, I was nearly high. It was the first time I was pain free in the past 20 years! It was as if there had been a radio playing static every moment of every day— and suddenly someone switched it off. I was beside myself, laughing and crying, driving too fast down Glebe Road. Then, last...

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bottoms up

I’d fallen into bad habits over the past 2 or 3 years: I used to be an ardent red wine drinker, but found so many syrupy/cloying/medicinal notes in the Malbecs, Cabs, and Pinots that were in my (modest) price range I started gravitating towards whites. It’s easier to cover flaws in a non-prestige white wine, both during production and as a consumer. I mean, if it’s not great, you can throw some frozen fruit into it and drink it screaming cold and it’ll still give you the “I’m having a pleasant glass of wine” moment. Not so with a...

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