Music and Health

While in the hospital Nick and I were asked by a member of the play team to come and play for a little girl who was distressed and in a state of discomfort. She was suffering from involuntary movements in the limbs and mouth. He legs would kick out and at the same time her jaw would spasm.

When we arrived at her bedside at first there were a few people round the bed. We started playing and there was little discernable effect. The play specialist picked up the girl from her bed and sat down with her on a chair. Her father arranged cushions around the play specialist so that the girl was supported. Her father then left and we played. I was sitting on a small chair in front of the play specialist and the girl and Nick was to the side. We played for about 10 minutes and we sang and the play specialist joined in. Gradually through the singing the girl made eye contact with the play specialist and this continued for the rest of the interaction.

The small area we were in became a bubble of calm. The girl’s gaze was fixed on the play specialist as she lay there in her arms. We continued to support the interaction changing songs, accompaniment and sounds. Her involuntary movements became less. From where I was sitting I could see perfectly the read out on the heart rate monitor that the girl was attached to. From the time that the singing started her heart rate went down by 10 bpm and continued at this lower rate for the whole 20 – 25 minute period we were with her.

A group of doctors came over to examine the girl and as soon as the singing stopped and the eye contact was broken, her heart rate went back up and the involuntary movements returned.

Sometimes it is hard to assess the impact of what we do, other times it is there plainly to see.

While working in hospital the other day Nick and I found ourselves robed in plastic aprons playing to a young boy in an isolation room. He was disabled and had limited sight. He looked about 7 and was lying on the bed wearing only a nappy with various tubes coming out of him and rocking from side to side seemingly agitated and in a state of discomfort.

We stood at the end of the bed and played for him. We started off with something quite upbeat to match his agitated state and then gradually changed what we were playing as he seemed to calm down. The rocking and movement became less and what we were playing seemed to be calming him. As we were playing a doctor came in and carried out a process involving syringes and tubes that were taped onto the boy. This took a few minutes and we continued to play as the process went on and after it had finished.

We continued to soften our playing and the boy became calmer and calmer and eventually fell asleep. As we left there was a feeling of calm in the room and gone was the sense of agitation and discomfort present when we arrived.

I was left wondering to what extent the music had calmed the boy and how much the medical process had resulted in him falling asleep. This ambiguity can leave a strange feeling at first. As musicians we hope that our music has a positive impact on everyone we encounter but when we work with people in hospitals there is so much that we don’t know about the patients circumstances that often we have to content ourselves with not knowing the impact of what we do or even in some cases if there is an impact. This requires the development of a certain resilience based on confidence in what we do and our ability to carry out this work sensitively and appropriately.

In a circumstance like this two words from our training come to mind: Beneficence and non-maleficence. Keeping in mind that what we do must have a benefit or at least must not be harmful to the patient. In the case above I was sure that the music was not causing any discomfort to the boy, I was guessing that he liked it and hoping that it was soothing him. I couldn’t be sure that the music had sent him to sleep but that didn’t matter.