I wouldn’t hold my breath, though.April 27, 1990, Chicago, Illinois“How are you feeling?” I asked.“High as a kite,” my dad chuckled. “They...gave me one of those buttons to push to get a dose of painkiller when I need it and it works like a champ!”“When do they get you out of bed?” I asked.“Early next week. The physical therapist was in this morning to explain the exercise regimen. It won’t be much fun.”“Yes, but no more pain in your hips and no stiffness when you sit too long have to be. "Listening to Mum wittering on for more than half an hour isn't Dad's idea of fun," Reg replied with a grin."Nor yours either, I suspect, you ungrateful young man."They both chuckled."Have you brought the music?" Reg asked eagerly."Of course." Her twinkling eyes showed she was not upset. She delved in a plastic bag and brought out the complete score and a sheet of music on which she had written the bass part."Now then," she went on pulling her chair so that she could sit beside him, "this is a. More

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