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Finally, It Doesn't Hurt to Play the Melody When I started to play the oboe in fourth grade, I never imagined that I would ever become really attached to it. Like most kids, I only practiced if my mother was constantly prodding me, and even then it was only for a half an hour. I guess I had an overwhelming amount of natural talent, because I had always been the best, but I never practiced for it. It wasn't until I got to the point where I couldn't practice at all, that I really missed it. This occurred during my junior year in college when I was preparing for my junior recital at the University of Denver. I think that it may have been the only time I practiced diligently for a long period of time, and consequently, I developed a repetitive strain disorder. I made it through the recital, but the whole time I felt like my right thumb was going to rip off of my hand and land on the stage in Foote Hall. To make matters worse, I took a "vacation" after my recital and didn't play my oboe much until six weeks later, when school resumed again. At this point, I knew that something wasn't right. The only way that I could play was to rest the bell of my instrument on my right knee hoping that I could take some of the weight off of my thumb. I had the sympathy of all my friends and professors, but that didn't help my situation. After seeing two orthopedic specialists, I was made to feel like I had brought this problem upon myself by choosing music as my profession, and that I was basically crazy to think that I would be able to continue to play. They determined that I had developed a repetitive motion disorder and felt that the best (and only) remedy was to quit playing so that the injury could heal. Their suggestion was not feasible, considering the fact that I was on a full scholarship and that the university would not let me take a year off, even with a doctor's prescription. My only other option was physical therapy, where they made splints for me to use while playing, but the plastic always dug into my fingers and I didn't wear them. I tried using ice packs and hot packs and devices which would help strengthen my fingers as well as the exercises from my physical therapist, none of which had any effect. I had considered taking another route in my life, and ditching my music degree, but I couldn't imagine doing anything else and still staying a happy person. I finally saw a small light at the end of the tunnel, when we were preparing to play Britten's Albert Herring in February of that same year. I had mentioned to my father (the engineer) that I didn't think that I was capable of playing the opera every night for four nights, not to mention rehearsals, without an excruciating amount of pain. Besides, I knew that my performance wouldn't be very good if I was focused on the pain in my hand instead of the music. He developed a device for me which would take the weight off of my hand and place it to the seat of my chair. The device, nicknamed Fred, consisted of a wooden top with a wire coming out of it which attached onto the ring of my thumbrest, with a threaded rod which was drilled into the wood on one end and a rubber dog ball on the other end. It could easily be adjusted, up or down, so that I could get my oboe at the right height, and since we were in an orchestra pit I didn't feel self-conscious using it. I must admit that the device looked rather crude and was slightly embarrassing, but it served its purpose! We decided to nickname it Fred as a counterpart to Edmund Nielsen's Esmeralda the Oboe Playing Duck, since product prototypes are generally known to have nicknames. To hide some of its roughness, I made a black taffeta "dress" to cover the apparatus, but it seemed to draw quite a bit of attention anyway. I even used Fred for my jury that quarter, and the woodwind faculty was so enthralled by the device that they spent at least half of my jury talking about it! For once, I could practice without pain, and the only thing that would stop me from playing was the endurance of my lips! After this little experiment, Fred was refined substantially, so that it isn't even visible to anyone in front of me, and some of my friends in orchestra, who happened to be sitting right beside me, didn't even notice it until after about two weeks. I can honestly say that after using FHRED (Finger and Hand Retraining Ergonomic Device) for about six months, my right hand became much stronger, and I have been able to play some performances without it. I still use it for practicing so that I can continue to work on a new hand position, and I am able to use it for performances without any qualms whatsoever! Even before I developed my hand problem, I had extreme difficulty playing the english horn, because it weighs so much more than the oboe, but now I also use a FHRED for my english horn, and I have eliminated the need for a neck strap. I now feel like I can continue as a musician again, and hopefully make a career out of performing because I can't imagine doing anything else, and besides that, I enjoy it! This article appeared in the Double Reed Journal Oct. 1995 About the author - Kathryn Smith (Katie) is a Cum Laude graduate of the University of Denver Lamont School of Music with a degree in Oboe Performance. She is currently employed in computer software support in the Denver area and is Oboist in Residence at St. John Cathedral in Denver.