It was a spectacular evening. I played for the grand opening of a five-star hotel in downtown Sydney with the who’s who walking down the red carpet, including the Lord Mayor. The event provided hair, makeup, and a brand-new dress! All I had to do was improvise with a DJ for less than an hour. I was feeling pretty high on life because I had just won two orchestral auditions back-to-back and spent the previous few days playing recitals in Hobart and Brisbane. I was living the dream!

But, as fate would have it, a seemingly innocent encounter with my high heels after the gig brought me crashing down to earth. It was a comical yet unforgettable moment that left me nursing a broken foot, a dorsal fracture of the fifth metatarsal on my right foot to be precise. Little did I know that all my exciting harp-related adventures would come to a complete halt after being on the top of the world just moments earlier. It was just a little trip walking down the parking lot ramp in my harp shoes that did it. (Fortunately, without the harp at hand!) 

After a hospital visit, doctors confirmed I had indeed broken my foot. I was put in the moon boot and told to wear it for six weeks. The moon boot became my trusty companion throughout this journey of healing. With each step, I found myself navigating the highs and lows of recovery. The moon boot became a symbol of resilience, a constant reminder that setbacks could be overcome with patience and more than a dash of humor and tears.

…with each new day, I discovered new reserves of strength and determination, fueling my desire to reclaim my place on the concert hall stage.

I canceled all my concerts for the next six weeks, including pushing back the start date with my new job as principal harp with the Queensland Symphony Orchestra (QSO).

The first week of recovery was non-weight bearing, lying around the house, unable to move without the help of my crutches, and not stepping on the right foot at all in the boot. My husband, neighbor, and friends catered everything for me. After that, I was able to start walking a tiny bit around the house in the moon boot, still using crutches, but my movements were extremely limited and quite painful. Sitting up in a chair with my foot on the ground caused immense pain, so sitting behind the harp was not an option for me. Ultimately, the pain forced me to take a four-week hiatus from playing.

In my quest to regain mobility, I discovered the wonders of the knee scooter—a contraption that instantly expanded my world. As my broken foot gradually healed, my new job and my new life in the orchestra beckoned. 

Physical therapy became my sanctuary—a place where I learned to walk again, one careful step at a time. It wasn’t easy, and the pain was a constant reminder of my journey. But with each new day, I discovered new reserves of strength and determination, fueling my desire to reclaim my place on the concert hall stage.

Playing the harp with a broken foot posed a unique challenge. Moon boot off, specialized shoes on, my secret weapons in the battle to regain my pedal prowess. Over the course of several weeks filled with slow and frustrating days, I diligently retrained my right foot to pedal again. The G and A pedals proved to be my greatest adversaries, particularly when navigating the movement from flat to natural and natural to sharp. I had naively assumed that as soon as I was out of my boot I would be back to pedaling again in no time. This was absolutely not the case, and I realized I was in for many more weeks of regaining strength and mobility. But with persistence and practice, I found my footing, mastering the delicate art of pedal changes once again.

Nearly 10 weeks after the break, I braved the logistical and psychological challenge of flying from Sydney to Brisbane alone to begin my work with the QSO. Moon boot and knee scooter on my side, I rolled up to my first day of rehearsals. Not how I had expected to show up to a first orchestral rehearsal.

I’m thrilled to share that, four months after breaking my foot, I recently performed my very first concert wearing a pair of black ballet flats! The joy of having a bit of fashion on my feet, let alone the confidence and ease with which my foot moved, filled me with so much happiness. I have a renewed sense of passion for performing and an invigorated joy for fancy pedal work. 

Our journey through life may take unexpected turns, but around each bend can be an opportunity for growth and transformation. As musicians, we possess an innate ability to adapt and find harmony amidst challenges. Let us embrace all those detours with open hearts and minds as they shape us into stronger and more resilient artists. •