I'll get you my pretty...and your little dog too!

After ages and ages spent trying to get tickets to see Wicked on Broadway in NYC, by hook or by crook, including waiting on line, or having friends wait on line in various attempts to win lottery tickets for the front row (available two hours before every show on Broadway, unfortunately not something they are doing here yet in the West End)....I finally saw the show last night, at the Apollo Victoria Theatre in central London last night. The actor playing the role of the Wicked Witch of the West, or Elphaba, was Idina Menzel, who originated the role on Broadway. The resident hottie of the show was none other than Adam Garcia (of Coyote Ugly fame), and wisely the director of the show did not ask him to change his I-could-just-eat-you-up Australian accent. Other names you may or may not have heard of included Miriam Margoyles as Madame Morrible (most recently of Professor Sprout fame in the Harry Potter movies), and Nigel Planer as The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.

For those of you who have not heard of the musical, first of all, where have you been?!!! Moving on, it's based on the novel by Gregory Maguire, where he takes the original story of the Wizard of Oz, and tries a new perspective on the Wicked Witch of the West...what if....what if, she wasn't evil, just misunderstood? A victim of slanderous propaganda? The old argument of nature versus nurture raises its tired head-- and in the musical it's pretty obvious she's been shaped by her environment, by people using and abusing her, by things beyond her control. Although, the nature versus nurture thing is a bit of cheat, considering she isn't evil, per se, in the musical.

I don't want to spoil it all, and I don't think I will by going on to say the musical follows Elphaba through her school years, where for a time she is friends with Glinda (the Good), through the events found in the original Wizard of Oz, up to and including the melting scene. (Though Dorothy does not make an appearance, this is the Wicked Witch of the West's story after all.) I think that it's an absolutely gorgeous love story-- and I don't mean with Mr. Australia, I could get lost in your eyes. It is Elphaba's and Glinda's story, the meaning of true friendship and love, even when circumstances pit them against each other, that brings tears to your eyes.

It's an amazing show, from the music to the set to the story. If you haven't seen it yet, what are you waiting for, GO SEE IT! Several colleagues are now planning to see it because I had a container of Malteasers for a treat during the show...and barely touched it (I may have eaten four) I was so engrossed in the show. (I brought in the rest for them to share today.) They figure that's heavy praise ;)

To Drink or Not to Drink

Hee hee, I've got a little Mumble stuffed animal (main penguin in Happy Feet) that came in a box of Persil laundry detergent. It turns inside out-- it can either be an egg, or turn it inside out and it becomes Mumble!!

So, there's been a lot of talk lately about the binge drinking culture among teenagers and young adults in this country. There's been a lot of newspaper coverage, and it has become a political topic, in terms of how best to discourage/combat the binge drinking culture. There's a TV commercial that states on a "good" night out, young adults drink in the neighborhood of 40 units of alcohol, which is 5,000 calories, which equals 5 Christmas dinners. Yikes! Unfortunately, it is true over here that pretty much everything social revolves around alcohol. Whether it's happy hour, a BBQ, getting together to play cards, even going to the theatre (you pre-order drinks at the bar for intermission), everything involves drinking. It's just not a social event unless there is alcohol available. It's almost an equation, alcohol=fun. And it's cultural. Back to what I started with, the binge-drinking culture...on the front page of the free daily newspaper on Monday was a picture of Kimberley Stewart, Rod Stewart's daughter. She is 27 and she's currently in hospital, being treated for liver disease due to her heavy boozing. And there's a quote from daddy dearest: he is quoted as stating that she said to him, but Dad we're Scottish, I thought I could drink, and he told her, no, darling, it doesn't work like that.

News

The sad news today was that the tube was completely incapacitated, on top of which there was also a bus strike, and the stroke unit was therefore in complete disarray. I was there on time since I had walked, and an OT student who drives in every day was also there. But everyone else was at least an hour late. Although, I'm just now getting to the sad part of it...the central line had been shut down because there was not one, but two jumpers today. And we come back around to the topic of perspective, because I can't imagine where people must be in their lives to do such a thing-- and I also can't imagine being someone on the platform seeing this happen, or god forbid, the driver of the train.

On a much less dramatic note(perspective), but still emotionally draining and life-changing for this particular family, we had a case conference today for one of my patients. When asked what his current big goal, or number one goal, might be, he replied in this meeting he wanted to get back to work. (He's only 57, and was a self-employed painter/decorator.) We asked him to try again, and to try to think realistically, given the fact that he still has no movement or sensation on the left side of his body. He came up with walking, with a stick, or perhaps a frame at first. And it broke my heart, but we had to tell him we didn't see him being able to walk by the time he goes home, and that going back to work might very well not be on the cards for him. We asked him when he thought he might be ready to go home, and he named June of next year, but we had to tell him it would be early January at the latest. And we had to tell him that doing a good transfer with assistance, and standing well, would be the goals we'll try to accomplish before he leaves. His family is having to re-locate to wheelchair accessible housing, and he'll be getting a powered wheelchair eventually. His family is very "switched on" as they say, and none of this was a big shock to his wife, but I think he was pretty surprised by the news. His insight has definitely been affected by the stroke, and while he will say straight away he is making slow progress in therapy, and has good days and bad days, he's very unrealistic about the big picture. I think that's the hardest part of therapy some days-- being brutally honest with our patients about what we think they'll achieve before they go home. And even harder is dealing with patients who have no insight into their capabilities and limitations, and don't believe you no matter what you say. The one I'm talking about from today, he's not as bad as that. We've currently got two patients who think that they could walk with a stick if we'd just let them, even though they need 2-3 people just to help them stand in therapy.

Ok, so enough of the sad talk...my happy stuff today: Let's see, going to the gym (always feels even better than usual after an emotional day at work), I'm all booked for a yoga and hiking weekend in the Brecons in Wales in February (yay!!), and I got my first Christmas gift!! I got the shock of my life this morning when I picked up a parcel from my Mom on my way to work, which I thought contained some items I'd asked her to get from the drugstore. But it was bigger than I expected, yet still lightweight, so I couldn't guess what else might be in there. Turns out it was a pair of black Crocs (clogs) that was on my Christmas list, which she'd sent over early, thinking I could use them in hospital now. They are the coolest! And so comfy too... thanks Mom!!!

Team Hoyt

We had no internet at the hospital today, just a message from IT saying that they were working on it. And funnily enough, today I actually needed the internet for reasons having to do with a patient. Anyway, got an email from Viv last night, and although being allied health professionals we may be suckers for this kind of thing, I think this is the kind of thing we all need to be reminded of now and then. We get caught up in our own lives, and sometimes lose perspective (aha-aha, I'm sure you're all starting to recognize this as a theme with me, probably because being an OT, I am constantly reminded I've lost perspective again)...please do read the entry below, and then watch the video below that. The subject for this entry will make sense once you've read the article- sorry about the formatting glitches, by the way, I copied and pasted...

Strongest Dad in the World

[From Sports Illustrated, By Rick Reilly]

I try to be a good father. Give my kids mulligans. Work nights to pay
for their text messaging. Take them to swimsuit shoots.

But compared with Dick Hoyt, I suck.

Eighty-five times he's pushed his disabled son, Rick, 26.2 miles in
marathons. Eight times he's not only pushed him 26.2 miles in a
wheelchair but also towed him 2.4 miles in a dinghy while swimming and
pedaled him 112 miles in a seat on the handlebars--all in the same day.

Dick's also pulled him cross-country skiing, taken him on his back
mountain climbing and once hauled him across the U.S. on a bike. Makes
taking your son bowling look a little lame, right?

And what has Rick done for his father? Not much--except save his life.

This love story began in Winchester, Mass., 43 years ago, when Rick
was strangled by the umbilical cord during birth, leaving him
brain-damaged and unable to control his limbs.

"He'll be a vegetable the rest of his life;" Dick says doctors told
him and his wife, Judy, when Rick was nine months old. "Put him in an
institution."

But the Hoyts weren't buying it. They noticed the way Rick's eyes
followed them around the room. When Rick was 11 they took him to the
engineering department at Tufts University and asked if there was
anything to help the boy communicate. "No way," Dick says he was
told. "There's nothing going on in his brain."

"Tell him a joke," Dick countered. They did. Rick laughed. Turns out a
lot was going on in his brain.

Rigged up with a computer that allowed him to control the cursor by
touching a switch with the side of his head, Rick was finally able to
communicate. First words? "Go Bruins!" And after a high school
classmate was paralyzed in an accident and the school organized a
charity run for him, Rick pecked out, "Dad, I want to do that."

Yeah, right. How was Dick, a self-described "porker" who never ran
more than a mile at a time, going to push his son five miles? Still,
he tried. "Then it was me who was handicapped," Dick says. "I was
sore for two weeks."

That day changed Rick's life. "Dad," he typed, "when we were
running, it felt like I wasn't disabled anymore!"

And that sentence changed Dick's life. He became obsessed with giving
Rick that feeling as often as he could. He got into such hard-belly
shape that he and Rick were ready to try the 1979 Boston Marathon.

"No way," Dick was told by a race official. The Hoyts weren't quite a
single runner, and they weren't quite a wheelchair competitor. For a
few years Dick and Rick just joined the massive field and ran anyway,
then they found a way to get into the race officially: In 1983 they
ran another marathon so fast they made the qualifying time for Boston
the following year.

Then somebody said, "Hey, Dick, why not a triathlon?"

How's a guy who never learned to swim and hadn't ridden a bike since
he was six going to haul his 110-pound kid through a triathlon? Still,
Dick tried.

Now they've done 212 triathlons, including four grueling 15-hour
Ironmans in Hawaii. It must be a buzzkill to be a 25-year-old stud
getting passed by an old guy towing a grown man in a dinghy, don't you
think?

Hey, Dick, why not see how you'd do on your own? "No way," he says.
Dick does it purely for "the awesome feeling" he gets seeing Rick
with a cantaloupe smile as they run, swim and ride together.

This year, at ages 65 and 43, Dick and Rick finished their 24th Boston
Marathon, in 5,083rd place out of more than 20,000 starters. Their
best time'? Two hours, 40 minutes in 1992--only 35 minutes off the
world record, which, in case you don't keep track of these things,
happens to be held by a guy who was not pushing another man in a
wheelchair at the time.

"No question about it," Rick types. "My dad is the Father of the
Century."

And Dick got something else out of all this too. Two years ago he had
a mild heart attack during a race. Doctors found that one of his
arteries was 95% clogged. "If you hadn't been in such great shape,"
one doctor told him, "you probably would've died 15 years ago."

So, in a way, Dick and Rick saved each other's life.

Rick, who has his own apartment (he gets home care) and works in
Boston, and Dick, retired from the military and living in Holland,
Mass., always find ways to be together. They give speeches around the
country and compete in some backbreaking race every weekend,
including this Father's Day.

That night, Rick will buy his dad dinner, but the thing he really
wants to give him is a gift he can never buy.

"The thing I'd most like," Rick types, "is that my dad sit in the
chair and I push him once."

THE VIDEO IS BELOW: You have to watch it. It's the best part.