Foreign territory

The elevator doors open, and the stillness struck me--a stark contrast to the other floors, where chaos abound in every way: noise, smell, and motion.

"I don't usually bring musicians up here, 'cause patients are, you know, in a worse condition." My guide explained to me in a low voice.

"Are we playing for ICU patients?" I asked.

"Oh no!" her voice raised slightly to my naive suggestion. "No, no...just some who are a step down from the ICU."

A nurse was expecting us. She took us to her patient, a solemn woman in her sixties who sat on her bed with her back so straight and her expression so stern that I couldn't help but think of the stepmother in Disney's Cinderella cartoon. Her daughter was next to her, as was a big portrait of Jesus with some Greek writing at the bottom. The room was painted in a strange shade of green that only added to the eerie stillness around us. "I brought you a giiift!" The nurse said in a sing-song tone, and we were met by a pair of icy brown eyes. The daughter gently stroked her mother's hand and smiled at us.

I improvised for a little while, then segued to "There Is A Fountain". I usually watch the weaker patients closely, making sure that the volume and the content do not become too strong so as to disturb them. Every small movement of a facial muscle is a tale tell sign. In this case, the patient was clearly alert and even a little unwelcoming, so I kept my eyes glued to the junction of the moving bow and the strings. As I came to the last cadence, I was pleasantly surprised to see the ice melting in those eyes that were so strict at the beginning and a pair of wrinkled hands clapping. Mission accomplished.

As we stepped into the hallway, another nurse was standing there, waiting for us. She asked us to play for her patient as well, and my guide told her to lead the way. We tried to follow her brisk steps, but she suddenly disappeared around the corner. I kept on going, but my guide slowed down a little and became hesitant. "Are we really going to the ICU?" she mumbled to herself.

To the ICU we went, beyond glass double doors into a small, poorly-lit space with only three "rooms". The nurse explained to the others what we were doing, and as soon as they understood (which took a while, I think because the concept is a little unusual), they surrounded us with such excitement as if we were from another planet. "Come stand over here," the nurse who brought us motioned me over to the entrance of a room. "That way, Mr. Cha can see you and everyone else can hear you." Someone went and fetched Mrs. Cha, who said, "Yes, yes, the music will stimulate his brain, just like when I talk to him."

The excitement went on, and I did not bother to wait until everyone quieted down to play. Even if I did, we were never going to have a concert hall atmosphere anyway. Every two notes were interrupted by "ooh, that's nice" and "this is really going to help him" from the people around me. Mr. Cha gave me his undivided attention. His eyes shone brilliantly as his lips pressed together into a thin line, shadowed by white beard stubs. He quietly banged the railing of his bed at the end of the piece, and his wife was ecstatic. She thanked me over and over again, and as I turned around, one of the nurses gave me a kiss on the forehead.

You never know where your gifts will take you. The key is to be prepared and open for any opportunity when the Gift-giver says, "Go." Each new territory entered is a foreign territory the first time. After that, it is a place where you have left--and will hopefully continue to leave--your mark.