Dock of the Bay

Because my husband responds to music, "official" music therapy has been added by the hospice provider. The young man visits various residents, strumming his guitar and singing the tunes of their era. He has a strong, clear voice, and his playing is very good, too. All the residents enjoy listening to him and singing along, so it benefits everyone, really.

Yesterday, I happened to be present when the musician came to sing and play for my husband. Previous sessions hadn't gone too well, which is surprising, so I was glad to be there to observe and make suggestions. My husband likes to get up suddenly and wander a bit, which made the therapist think he wasn't interested in the music. That's not true, of course, so I just suggested that when that happens, he could just be a troubadour and follow my husband around. It worked perfectly. The little egg-shaped shaker things, though, not so much. My husband secreted his away in his pocket, but I'm just as sneaky as he is and was able to retrieve it without conflict. Whew.

At one point, my husband had decided to sit down on the couch for a bit. I sat next to him, and the therapist began playing "Dock of the Bay." My husband was nodding his head and tapping his foot, making warbling attempts at singing along to this long-time favorite. Then came the last part of the song.

"Here comes the whistling part," I whispered in his ear, smiling.

And guess what happened next? As the therapist began whistling, my husband whistled along, too! He even trilled some of the "notes." This was so wholly unexpected, so delightful. Everyone in the room started clapping and cheering, "Way to go!"

I just cried. I think that's okay.

Music Is Magic

Music has a way of reaching past the Alzheimer's and firing up, albeit briefly, a person's spirit. According to the Mayo Clinic, "Research suggests that listening to or singing songs can provide emotional and behavioral benefits for people with Alzheimer's disease and other types of dementia. Musical memories are often preserved in Alzheimer's disease because key brain areas linked to musical memory are relatively undamaged by the disease." I don't know about all that, necessarily, but someone told me to think of it as being like riding a bike. You never really forget how to ride. It's in your muscle memory.

Enjoying that tune. 

My husband has always loved music. Every genre except rap, that is. Classical, gospel, country, rock, blues, bluegrass, jazz, and soul are all happily and generously represented in his considerable collection. He could "name that tune" in three notes or less and loved seeing and hearing his favorite artists "live" in concert. He frequently watched televised performances or popped in DVD's of bands famous and obscure.

So when I heard there was going to be live entertainment at the facility this afternoon, I made it a point to enthusiastically encourage him to "go to the concert" with me. This was not going to be a typical afternoon visit with naps interspersed with "earbud" music from the iPod I bring with me that's loaded with tunes typical of his eclectic taste.

The singing duo was mildly reminiscent of SNL's Marty & Bobbi Culp, but that didn't matter. Their song selections were standards spanning the decades. The show tunes, classic rock, and jazzy numbers were familiar and pleasing. It took my husband a while, but his eyes brightened and he seemed to genuinely enjoy the music, nodding to the beat, clapping his hands (astounding!), even dancing  (swaying to the music) with me and smiling as he held me in his arms. Dear reader, you can imagine how this made my heart glad!

Groovin'...

This is why I say that music is magic. It's miraculous. It reaches down deep in your soul, pulling out memories and associated feelings that may have been long forgotten. It transports you to far-away places and long-ago times. It elicits a powerful and positive response from people whose emotions may generally manifest in a thousand inappropriate ways and whose treasured memories and pleasing personalities are buried under layers of increasing confusion and disorientation.

It is heartwarming. And heartbreaking.

And look! I captured a smile.

I Wanna Play My Harmonica

Photo by Chris

Music is transcendent and therapeutic. It goes deep inside and stays with you. My husband has always loved it, though he hasn't played an instrument since he was a boy.

A number of years ago, I purchased a couple of harmonicas for him. He was still hunting then, and I thought he might enjoy learning to play some tunes by the campfire. It was probably more wishful thinking on my part than a desire in his heart, and the harmonicas and how-to-play books gathered dust, forgotten.

I found the harmonicas the other day and showed them to him. We both played with them a little, and I encouraged him in his gleeful efforts. "Wow! That sounds fantastic, honey!"

Much to my delight, he has been carrying the harmonicas with him everywhere, experimenting with making music (sometimes inappropriately, such as during a young lady's solo of the national anthem at a graduation ceremony). The tunes are nothing that anyone would recognize, of course, but it seems to bring him pleasure every time he "discovers" a harmonica in his pocket and starts to blow into it. I'm ecstatic about finding anything that elicits interest in him, no matter how fleeting.

On our drive home today, I was playing some "golden oldie" CDs in the car. He whipped out his harmonica and started "playing along" enthusiastically. The harmonica he was using was in the wrong key, and the "tune" he was playing bore no resemblance to the song on the CD. No matter. Anyone else in the car might have been driven insane by the dissonance, but it was beautiful music to me.

It delights me to see him happily enjoying something. Will this be an ongoing interest? We'll see. But today, it brought an hour or two of relief for his nervous energy. Kind of like a fidget spinner for the soul.