Misfortune and Mistreatment (Caitlin)

Well, my head's wrapped and covered in wires. I'm not supposed to do combat or anything that makes me sweat. That wasn't really a problem because I don't sweat easily. I'm not much of a fighter either. I'm more of the person who runs far away from danger, hides, and cries a lot until someone rescues me. A lot of my haters say they support all races, ages, genders, and orientations. I could see that they deliberately left out personality types and political ideologies to have a basis for attacking me.
         "Any questions?" The technician packed up as my class filed out the door.
         "Yes. How am I supposed to teach my private students, get interviewed, and perform at a concert like this?"
         "Wow, you're busy!" She looked surprised. "How do you do all that?"
         "I love it. It may make my life shorter, but it makes my life worth living. I'm also getting married in a week."
         "To who?" The technician's eyes lit up.
         "You've probably seen him on TV. I'll give you a hint. His name is Steve."
         "The sleazy talk show host?" She raised her eyebrows disapprovingly.
         "No. The slayer of the Ender Dragon." The technician nodded, indicating her understanding, and then stared at me in disbelief. "I know. I'm the luckiest woman in the world, doing what I love with the man I love."

         "Indeed you are!" she exclaimed, though her countenance said otherwise. Her job mandates that she see the worst aspects of peoples' lives, so I wasn't all that surprised by her response. She left after that, presumably to wrap someone else's head.

Teaching the guitar class went reasonably well, considering that I know very little of the instrument's workings. It gave me more of an opportunity to have students solve problems on their own and on the fly, which is something every musician needs to learn how to do. I played a concert with the orchestra yesterday with a very chipped reed and managed to play decently. Speaking of playing decently, my students were making some excellent progress.

Adrian has an ongoing stroke of misfortune, it seems. According to what Alex said to me, he apparently got so nervous he wet his pants and started crying shortly before the fall concert. Fortunately, he was able to go onstage after a change of clothes and and some encouraging words from another band member. However, he is nervous that it will happen again during the next concert. I will find ways to remedy his anxieties shortly. Given that Adrian is such a nice kid, I want him to have better luck in the future.

Kaito had an excellent performance and was beginning to make a few friends in band. I noticed that he was talking more and his verbal abilities showed a great improvement. This transfer of skills is not uncommon either. Alex got (begrudgingly) better at singing harmony and letting others have a crack at the tune. She made about five new friends as well. Carmen will be the youngest participant in Minecraft's solo and ensemble in just a month. Naturally, I'm incredibly proud of her.

And Alice? Alice is at the hospital awaiting psych evaluations. I don't know what she was doing all the way in another universe, but she is safe and that's what's important. I'm so glad the doctor decided
 against meeting her mother because, to put it nicely, she doesn't care about Alice at all. Everything she says to Alice is one big middle finger to her face.

Not only does she abuse Alice, she had the nerve to accuse Steve of cheating on me with this supermodel who neither of us know about other than how she threw her drink in a bartender's face because it didn't taste right. How she would even remotely appeal to Steve as a person I don't know. We are still trying to clear up that scandal and explain to the public that Steve would do nothing of
the sort.

Speaking of that, the interviewer came in and asked me about the incident.

         "It would be very out of character for Steve to do such a thing."
         "How would you know that?"
         "I live with him. Trust me, I'd know if he were doing things like that." Since I was unwilling to be questioned further, much to the reporter's dismay, he moved onto another topic.
         "What do you have to say about brass instruments and toxic masculinity?"My sixth graders could easily ask better questions than this
         "Although instrument tends to reflect personality, I don't think it shares any connection with such a concept." I tried not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the question. After a few more questions about why I was so passive and disengaged, I was about ready to cry. Why is it that, if I erred on the side of aggressive, I'd be more readily understood than if I were more reticent?

Carmen came in with her solo and ensemble piece. Not only do I want her to do well, I wanted her to be the best. Being nine years old, she may not be taken as seriously. Taking that and her visual impairment into account, she has more than her work cut out for her. We worked on cleaning up the runs and articulations. Crossing the break is a rough spot for her as it is for every clarinetist, so we got that squared away. Her piece of choice was very fast and technical, which is the type of piece she plays best. At the end of the lesson, she asked me what the wires were for. Instead of flipping out and being snarky as is commonly suggested, I said that my neurologist wanted to study my brain and use the information to benefit me. I was glad that Carmen asked. It's way better than staring.

Nathan came in with his band music and his solo and ensemble piece. He had a slow, lyrical piece that Steve picked out for him. I suggested that he do a bit of vibrato on the longer notes.
          "I thought vibrato was for flutes!" Nathan seemed amused by the notion of vibrato on horn.
          "Oh, trust me. it's for every instrument!" Upon trying it, I heard this awful jackhammer sound. After telling him to smooth it out, he switched to a slower, but still choppy, vibrato. We worked more some stylistic things such as where to push and pull. He showed very little interest in the wires on my head (or much of anything besides not fracking high notes, for that matter). After a few questions, he left.

Now that that was squared away, I clambered into bed and closed my eyes. The sweet release of sleep washed over me. After that, I woke up. Steve was working with some students from another school on lip slurs and fingerings. He would meet me at the performance venue.

Upon meeting at the venue, Steve gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and we divided to warm up in our different sections. The horns were playing lip slurs and scales. We ran through the parts where I had my solos, which turned out terrible. But a bad run through means a good concert, right?

After a group run through in which Steve forgot to come in, it was time for the concert. We made our way onstage with Landon carrying my stand as well as his own. He made no noise, even with the tap shoes. We played our opening number as if it were audition day all over again. This band was responsible, not only for much of my growth as a hornist, but as a person as well. I gained confidence I didn't even think was possible. I made a friend I never thought I'd have.

As the rest of the concert progressed, I thought of how each song reflected the player's personality. Mark made the audience laugh--and he did the choreography, which meant that he was getting a raise. The other solo numbers suited their performers just as well. After that, Landon switched instruments and tapped while playing trumpet, an impressive feat. He even, despite my advice, did a back flip with his trumpet in hand. With that, we had intermission. That was odd, seeing that we have played all of our listed  numbers.

My phone rang, thing had a phone call. Due to my last experience with a phone call during intermission, I felt incredibly nervous. My hands shook so much I could barely hold my phone. I took a deep breath and answered.

         "Hello?"
         "This is Dr. Shelder. Alice Alder is under our care. Since we couldn't get any word from her mother, we decided to contact you." Oh no. Oh no. How was Alice? Was she okay? "Well, we have some bad news."
         "Alice's blood work results look pretty odd. For one thing, her blood cell count is very low across the board and she's displaying several symptoms of anemia. The most severe is shortness of breath. She got winded walking to get food, which is odd given that she is accustomed to physical labor." Alice did seem to have poorer breath support lately. "We ran some further testing and concluded that Alice has ALL."
        "What is that?" I wanted to sound more intelligent, but my head was spinning with worry. How did I not notice the symptoms?
         "Acute lymphocytic leukemia. Even worse, it spread to her central nervous system. She said she wasn't feeling well today and then had a seizure. We transferred her to neurology just now. She has no diagnosis of epilepsy, is that correct?"  Dr. Shelder talked about treatments, survival rates, and a whole host of other things, but I didn't really hear the rest. Steve came to ask me what was wrong. I wanted to speak, but I couldn't form the words. Even if I could, I felt like I would vomit if I opened my mouth. I continued silently to the rest of the performance.
          "Since our musicians are so talented, it is my pleasure to embarrass them publicly. I meant praise their talents. Let's start with Miss Caitlin Netherfield." Wait, what? Why am I getting commended in front of a crowd? Still, I didn't feel compelled to celebrate. Alice's life was on the line. "You could feel the emotion in her first solo as if she were really auditioning to be with us." The others received their praises, and, though I smiled, I felt like I didn't really mean it. After the applause died as the last member was acknowledge, I ducked into a small room backstage and called Alice's mother.
         "Such a bad child for running away. Doesn't she know what's good for her?"
         "She's been hospitalized for depression." I added that you caused in my head. However, this was not a time for spite.
         "Hospitalized? For depression? That insensitive little brat should realize her place in the world." Alice is the furthest thing from an insensitive brat. She has the strongest work ethic of anyone I know, student or teacher.
         "Anyway, the doctors found out she has ALL, acute lymphocytic leukemia. It spread to her central nervous system and..." I did not want my voice to break. Not now. I needed to sound strong and professional.
         "And what? And she finally realized what it's like to be me taking several pills a say just to not feel like I'm on fire?" That was it. No one uses disability as an excuse for mistreating my students.
         "I'd be more concerned about the fact that Alice has cancer and could possibly die than whatever's going on with you at the moment. Do you think that I, someone with epilepsy, wanted her to know what it's like for me to have a seizure? Of course not. Those things are terrible. You have been nothing but petty and downright abusive."
         "I'm reporting you for malicious speech." She hung up frantically before I could say more. I've never felt more angry. What drives someone to belittle another person like that, especially their own child?