Singing in the lifeboats

My main reason for going to New Zealand at the end of March was to spend time with my mum. In case you've been living in a cave for the last couple of years, she has Alzheimer's and is experiencing the slow decline that is typical of the disease. My sister shoulders the responsibility for Mum's well-being, and she made a decision in January to move Mum to a care facility that is closer to where she and her husband now live. She told me how lovely it is and I was excited to check it out in person. 

I have spent time in a myriad of elderly-care facilities in the last ten years, and I can now get a fairly accurate sense of a place within minutes of entering. It's a combination of smell, sound, light, and the demeanour of the care-giving staff. This new home is in a class of its own, and I am so pleased that Mum is there. It is unusual in that elderly people with no cognitive deficits are living in the same area as dementia patients, who would normally be in a locked unit. Obviously, a tendency to wander would preclude someone from being accepted into the facility, as they would soon be out the door and into town, causing all sorts of consternation!

The wonderful thing about this situation is that the more capable residents often make friends with those who have dementia and will consciously (and magnanimously, in my opinion) include them in their world. One dear lady invites Mum into her room to watch Mr. Bean and old movies, and loves it when Mum laughs and has a good time. 

Alby, who is 94, played in bands for most of his life and played the guitar and several other instruments that I don't recall. Most afternoons, he plays old songs in one of the many small, well-lit living-room areas that are scattered around the facility.

Alby told us that he often goes to Mum's room and takes her down to sing with him. Mum is quite famous at "M House" for her love of singing and her still rather pure, high voice. She knows all the words to most of the songs and sings out without any self-consciousness. 

I spent a couple of delightful afternoons with this great little group. The first time, John and Anne were with me and we heard Alby singing and strumming away at the end of the hallway. We took Mum down and joined him. One of his friends, who shall remain nameless and faceless for this anecdote, was sitting in the armchair shown below in just a shirt and a diaper. John sat in the chair next to him and, after a few minutes, he looked at John with a perfectly straight face and said, "I think I'd better go find some pants!" 

And off he went.

Which reminded me of the time I was sitting in the room of a client with Alzheimer's, doing my music therapy thing, and someone walking by caught my attention. I was taken aback to see that she was stark naked, except for a diaper. Inhibitions are often one of the first things to go, and I suppose it is better to find the consequent situations comical, rather than tragic.

Alby is quite bright for his 94 years, although we did sing "Bye, Bye, Blackbird" about five times that day, each time as though it was the first! He will play as long as someone is there to listen and sing with him. Here he is with one of his friends, who is a regular at the sing-alongs.

Another day, this friend played the cajon, a box-like drum. He was a drummer in a band and has a pretty great bass voice as well.

The day before I left the area, I led a music therapy session at the care home. I borrowed John's very nice, rather large guitar, and used instruments from the activities office, and we had a rollicking good time. The usual beneficial effects ensued, including one dear man, who never speaks, who joined in singing several songs. I was reminded (yet again) of the unique qualities of music therapy, as the staff was quite impressed and intrigued by the level of participation of the group, compared to other forms of musical entertainment. I wish that more care homes would recognize the benefits and be willing to invest in music therapy for their residents.

A facebook friend sent me this video, which portrays something similar. It makes me want to work with individual clients again, as the results can be quite astounding. Please take a few minutes to watch this. Notice how Gladys changes her repetitive movements to match the beat, then how she drives the beat and the therapist follows her lead. Then towards the end, an almost angelic surprise.