Wow. It has been way too long. I guess it's safe to say that I've lost track of time. Some exciting things in my life have been happening. One of those things, and a main reason that I am adding this post, is that I was interviewed by The Songwriting Podcast recently. If you are new to my blog from that episode, welcome! I promise I'll make a point to update this more regularly!
Not to mince words, I'd like to just tell a story that way I usually do [or did, as it were]. Last week was the end of the month. As anybody in the health care field knows, this is the time when it gets a little hectic. I have monthly frequencies for all my clients and, when things work out well, I get everybody seen and do not feel rushed at all. Last month was one of those months. It worked out really well, then, that this particular story comes from my last visit of the month.
My client in this session was a long-time band and choir conductor. He claims to have only taught for 23 years, but I know that he did much longer than that. Many students have been musically trained by this man and now I get a chance to improve his life in a nursing home with music. Being a vocal trainer, but also having dementia, I need to be sure that the songs I'm choosing are songs that are both familiar but not too easy. I end up choosing a lot of hymns, but also mixing it up with some folk tunes. I have to choose carefully because, when he sings, he sings loud and proud. I could liken his voice to that of the Cowardly Lion from the Wizard of Oz. Even if he doesn't remember the words. I close the door, but I'm sure that does little to muffle our music to the ears of the other residents.
Aside from the song choice, I also need to be careful where I sit because, as a conductor, my client gets very exuberant with his gestures. This, I think, is the key to our sessions. He becomes who he has been for a long time. He directs again. I make sure I follow his tempo, volume, and entrance cues while playing and this seems to bring back a life into his eyes again. Needless-to-say, he is always conducting forte [loud, for all you non-music geeks out there] and just as expressive as we can muster. It's really neat to see this little man become a giant in a sense. His actions are broad, his face expressive, and his posture upright. It's a very distinct transformation.
I guess when you've made a living with music [either professionally or not], once you're hooked into music, you always will be.
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Friday, June 1, 2012
Am I 100?
I was seeing a patient this week that I have had some fun with. This is not going to be one of those really heart-wrenching tales to read this week. This is just one of those sessions that I like to facilitate.
The patient is 100 years old and has dementia. Unlike a lot of patients under those circumstances, however, she is very cheerful and is able to carry a conversation pretty well. The first time I met her, she said, "How old am I?" I honestly didn't know, so I told her so. She said, "Am I 100?" Again, I replied that I don't know. "Well, I sure feel like it!" was her reply. It was very funny. This last session, she agreed to a music therapy session, but said, "I'm not sure what to do for you, though." I told her that I just wanted to share some music with her, but if she wanted to sing with me even just relax with her eyes closed, that was okay. She only sang one one song, but was able to remember all the lyrics to "Let Me Call You Sweetheart."
A majority of my clients are similar to this. Hospice care is not always about big, world-shattering emotional events. A majority of the time, this is a normal thing. The people we see are just that. People. People can be goofy, serious, angry, happy, sad, and sometimes just sleepy. People are almost always the same people they were before they were on hospice care. A diagnosis or prognosis does not start when the medical tests get back. It starts long before, when they can still be themselves. It continues throughout the rest of their life. In the best case scenario, people can remain themselves until the end. That's what I'm trying to help them do.
The patient is 100 years old and has dementia. Unlike a lot of patients under those circumstances, however, she is very cheerful and is able to carry a conversation pretty well. The first time I met her, she said, "How old am I?" I honestly didn't know, so I told her so. She said, "Am I 100?" Again, I replied that I don't know. "Well, I sure feel like it!" was her reply. It was very funny. This last session, she agreed to a music therapy session, but said, "I'm not sure what to do for you, though." I told her that I just wanted to share some music with her, but if she wanted to sing with me even just relax with her eyes closed, that was okay. She only sang one one song, but was able to remember all the lyrics to "Let Me Call You Sweetheart."
A majority of my clients are similar to this. Hospice care is not always about big, world-shattering emotional events. A majority of the time, this is a normal thing. The people we see are just that. People. People can be goofy, serious, angry, happy, sad, and sometimes just sleepy. People are almost always the same people they were before they were on hospice care. A diagnosis or prognosis does not start when the medical tests get back. It starts long before, when they can still be themselves. It continues throughout the rest of their life. In the best case scenario, people can remain themselves until the end. That's what I'm trying to help them do.
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