Story: "I'm So Glad I Saw This"

This is just a little, rewarding story from the other day. I went to go see the last client I was going to see yesterday at a nursing home in a small Iowa town. This client has a form of dementia as a hospice diagnosis. She is oriented only to her name and starting to become more and more lethargic. She enjoys pushing herself around the halls in her wheelchair and has maintained a strong faith system through attending the facility worship services. I usually sing hymns with her and have grown fairly used to her singing along on most of the well-known hymns, like "Amazing Grace", "In the Garden", and "The Old Rugged Cross." She doesn't remember all the words, but always the majority of the first verse. When she isn't singing, she has a hard time putting six words together into a coherent order.

Yesterday, when I came for a visit, her daughter was there. I had never met this daughter and learned that she lived about 3 hours away. The daughter only visits every few months, so I was quite excited that he happened to be there. She, however, did not seem to be excited about visiting her mother. I suppose I can empathize. I understand what it's like to visit someone regularly, investing a lot of time and energy into their lives, only to have them ask you the same questions over and over because they don't remember you or what you told them earlier. The daughter seemed to have run out of energy, run out of things to talk about, or was just about to justify leaving. When I entered the room, I introduced myself and what I did and asked if she would stick around for a music therapy session, and she agreed.

From the very first song, my client sang with all the gusto she could muster. She even made hand motions and gestures that reflected the words she was singing. She wasn't waiting for me to start the words for her and, in fact, I had a hard time keeping up with her tempo. Eventually, I just plucked the chords on the downbeat of each measure. I've never heard "Amazing Grace" sung to intensely and deliberately as the well-known hymn was turned into a waltz tempo hymn, and I hung on to my client's every word. She proved this was no fluke, as she did the same for all the songs in the session. Not just the first verse, but sometimes the second, third, and even fourth verse were sung out. I can't help but feel that her session was a way of telling her daughter, "I'm still here. I'm still me. Don't worry about me. I remember you!" After the session, the daughter appeared to be mentally trying to wrap her head around the "performance" she had just witnessed. She looked on the verge of tearing up, but stopped herself and said to me, "I'm so glad I saw this!"

She didn't seem interested in continuing the conversation in a deep fashion and, instead, exchanged pleasant little comments about the power of music and faith. I left the room and went to do my charting and, as I left and walked by the client's room, I heard the client's daughter engaging her mother in conversation about music and faith. I can't be entirely sure about a lot of aspects this story and probably can't take full credit in the experience, but I do know one thing. I know that the daughter meant it when she said, "I'm so glad I saw this!" I'm glad I could give her mother back to her for a short time.