Strength from Weakness

Even as he approaches age 80, Leon Fleisher is an imposing figure, with piercing eyes behind thick-rimmed glasses. He has a large head and body and, unlike most men his age, he looks stocky. He has a mass of gray-black hair that appears spared the thinning that age usually inflicts on men. If I were describing Fleisher as a patient, I would say he looks much younger than his stated age. The only hint that he is almost an octogenarian is a slightly stooped posture.

Fleisher’s body is not intact, however, because his right hand is damaged. The hand that hangs uneasily at Fleisher’s side is pearl white in color and has a waxy appearance. While the left hand is thick and muscled from decades of practice and performance, the right hand looks frail and dystrophic, as if it had been reattached to his body after severing and lacked an adequate blood supply.

For many years after the onset of his focal dystonia, Fleisher struggled mightily against what must have been a devastating loss that imperiled not only his livelihood but also the very fulcrum of his being. At what should have been the peak of his career, at age 37, Fleisher had to retire from the concert stage. His biography indicates that, as the condition of his right hand deteriorated, he became depressed and considered suicide. His personal life suffered as his family life disintegrated.

Despite the tragedies in life worthy of Job, Fleisher did not succumb. He realized that, while he could not be a soloist for the complete repertoire, he could nevertheless enjoy a life of music, and he became a renowned teacher, conductor, and composer. He also resumed a career as a performer, playing—among others—important pieces by Ravel and Prokofiev that were commissioned by an Austrian pianist who had lost his right arm in World War I.

While Fleisher had a wonderful career on the faculty of the Peabody Conservatory of Music in Baltimore, he never gave up the dream of playing with both hands again. He tried a multitude of treatments—some conventional and some not very conventional. He eventually found relief with injections of Botox and rolfing, a form of message to soften the connective issue and realign damaged ligaments and tendons. Most rheumatologists would roll their eyes at the idea of rolfing, but it worked for Fleisher and he was able to gain enough function to resume his solo career with pieces for two hands.

A Masterful Recital

Having read about Fleisher and heard an interview with him on National Public Radio, I immediately bought tickets to a solo recital that he gave at Duke. I am a fan of live events—I like the spectacle and excitement—and I relish seeing great performers of any kind—whether a pitcher, pugilist, or percussionist. I bought seats as close to the front as I could, but unfortunately they were at the side.