Sad

On May 9, about 9 p.m. Ken came in after playing the piano and said “I’ve had an epiphany.” I couldn’t wait. What had he noticed that was a glimmer of hope? He looked at me and said “For the first time… I’m SAD.” I was stunned! Almost two months after his official diagnosis he was SAD. That certainly speaks to his attitude.

I had asked him just about a week earlier how he was feeling about the diagnosis. He was stoic about it, neither feeling happy nor SAD. Ken said “It just is.” But tonight, he was SAD. SAD that he hadn’t played well, SAD that he plays worse, SAD that he might not play again. The conversation turned to perspective.

I told him I thought he played well tonight…that a couple of weeks ago when he was playing I was SAD because what was once so easy for him was full of mistakes, missed notes, and missed rhythms. His response “You’ve been SAD?!”

What the hell kind of question is that? Of course I’ve been SAD. My usual responses are cloaked in humor, but SADness is a ladder of intensity. I am up and down constantly. So, yes, I’ve been SAD.

But back to the piano playing. He was surprised I was listening so closely as he played from the other room. My assessment that today was better than two weeks ago surprised him.

SADness is a matter of perspective.