A Soundtrack for Healing
My father is sleeping peacefully in his hospital bed. My chair creaks and he stirs awake, beaming when he sees me. The bare skin on his scalp is red and swollen, signs of the invasive chemo and radiation therapies which have kept him alive. There are clear plastic tubes coming out of his nose and arms for oxygen, drugs and a liquid diet, but he’s genuinely content in his powder blue robes and slippers. I see the contents of his CD player and ask, what’s it like to hear it performed for real?