Every once in a while, a nurse gives me a call and asks me to see a client who has taken a quick decline. Many times, patients who need extra support are given an "RLC" or "Radical Loving Care" designation for a short time. This is texted out to everybody in the office so they know who needs the extra help at that time. We all try to make it there, but I'm not always able to be there before they die. Many times, that is the end result of RLC, but sometimes the decline levels off and they may not need they extra support as much as initially thought. On Monday, I got the call before the text was even sent out, so I know it was important for the client and family that I be there, so first thing I did was stop there. This is the client who I spoke of in Play One More. When I got there, there were 3 daughters and some of their children, as well as the client's pastor. That is always a big red flag for me. Pastors always have people to see and things to do, despite all the jokes implying they only work for one hour on Sundays. If a pastor is just sitting in a chair in the dining room, waiting for something to happen, then I always assume something will happen soon. I got set up in the patient's bedroom [she lived in her own home] and invited everyone into the room. I wanted this to be a group session. I wanted to not only help the client relax [something she was not very good at in the past], but also to allow the family to communicate with the client, share stories, and feel the support that they were all providing for each other.
It started off with the family members showing little interest in being a part of music. Despite my encouragement, I was pretty much singing alone to the client. I began to engage the family more by asking them questions, specifically about music and their mother. They all seemed to recall a song she enjoyed, a story of the her dancing, or [for those that were there for my previous sessions] how she would light up during our sessions. This began a nice time of sharing and music. People would talk about songs she liked and I would play the ones I had. While playing, though, only one other person was singing. The only time I got them to sing was on the last song, "Jesus Loves Me." I set up by saying, "I can really feel the love you have for your mother. She's so lucky to have you here with her. This is an important time to spend with her and I know that she knows you're here. I know she's very happy you're with her. Let's sing this one like we're taking her place for a moment, thinking about what she's feeling right now." We started singing and everybody else joined it, tearfully making their way through that familiar tune. Even the pastor was getting misty, which speaks volumes about his connection and dedication to this family. After this, I tried to encourage them, told them to call with any concerns or changes, and left.
The patient died about an hour after I left. I will remember her fondly, as someone who walked in the first time assuming I'd be kicked out and was really welcomed with open arms, both in a literal and figurative sense. I hope Lillian's family knows how much their mother meant to everybody who got to see her.
---
New to the music therapy blogosphere is The Traveling Songstress. Check out her new blog and give her some support!
No comments:
Post a Comment