Friday, February 12, 2010

Music as Medicine

Volunteering with MOC for 2 1/2 years now, my perception of the role of music in medicine changes periodically. Or, rather than change, it has become more complex. At times, music is a distraction. At times, it is an entertainment. It can be a melodious commemoration of a moment in a patient's life--perhaps a psychological keepsake for the hospital experience and everything it entails. Sometimes, it is simply a dialogue between me and the listener.

And sometimes, it can be a kind of medicine.

I have played for many patients who are either unconscious or too weak to respond physically, but I have never played for someone who was in pain. That's why it took me by surprise when a 40-something woman asked me to play for her as she wrapped her arms around her abdomen, bending forward in her armchair and rocking slightly.

"What would you like to hear?" I whispered, fearing that even an extra decibel would add to her apparent discomfort.

"Something to take the pain away," replied the hoarse voice.

I started on the G-String, painting long and steady lines. She closed her eyes as her laborious breathing went into a deliberate rhythm. The notes followed her breaths faithfully; like a string that reins a kite on a windy day, the notes tugged gently when her breaths sped up and glided when they slowed down. Over time, her head began to sink to her chest, and the sound of her breathing became softer.

I brought the last line to a cadence when suddenly, an abrupt applause broke out in the hallway (Darn groupies...). It startled her a little, and with her gasp I felt another wave of pain coming. I moved closer to her. "Another one?" I whispered. She nodded.

So the flight began again (I don't know what else to call it). This time, I was able to use lighter colors on a slightly higher register, as it did not take as much effort to follow and guide her breathing the second time. As I left the room, she remained sitting in the dark with her head now bent back against the wall and her eyes closed.

I prayed for a peaceful night and sweet slumber.