Music and Health

Working as an associate musician for OPUS provides me with the great privilege of working musically within my local hospital setting. Three times a month, I visit both adult and paediatric wards at Furness General Hospital, making music for and with patients, staff and visitors.

Unlike the main OPUS music in healthcare practitioners, my work is mostly solitary, and I am aware of how this brings slight differences in our practices. I am also learning all the time, and the ‘expect nothing’ mantra is key to approaching each interaction with eyes, heart and mind open.

Music in a clinical setting has potential for impact in so many ways, from bringing a change in the atmosphere, providing comfort and distraction, reinforcing the well side of patients, through to providing some autonomy and control in a setting where so much can feel out of a patient’s hands.

Perhaps the biggest, lasting impact I notice in my own work is that of being the starter of conversations. On a bay of 6 beds, the shared experience of the musical presence frequently opens up interaction between patients on their own music experiences. The joy of music is something almost all have been affected by at some point or other in their lifetimes.

It is something we all have opinions on – ‘I don’t like this modern stuff’ ‘I like all sorts of music’ ‘You can’t beat the old classics’ ‘You can’t beat a bit of rock & roll!’

It is also something many have had lasting experiences with, whether it was watching live-aid or the proms on the telly, to seeing an act live on stage or at a wedding. Not forgetting how many of us either had the opportunity to learn an instrument as a child, or wish that we had. Perhaps family members play something now.

Conversations starting from the basis of music can lead to all sorts of further topics, from who is in your family to the places you’ve lived over the years… And even if no memory is sparked from being a part of this musical experience in the hospital, there is always the current shared music itself to discuss!

Also of note, is the way the music can spark non-medical interactions between staff and patients. Whilst of necessity tending to be briefer, these discussions take place between two human beings, at once equals and brought together by this shared experience. No longer a care-giver talking to a poorly person, the music can really have an impact, allowing both to see the other for the human being they are.

And let us not forget the family and visitors of patients, who may sit at their bedside for hours at a time. As before, sharing in the music together can spark so much to talk about, often when the day-to-day news has dried up. It can also provide a respite from having to talk at all – an opportunity to be present together without need for words – and this can be just as valuable.

I have also had the privilege to witness the presence of live music-making provide opportunities for parents of very young or very sick children to find additional ways to engage with their loved ones. Where words aren’t cutting through to a child’s understanding, the music can. As their mother, father, grandparent, aunt, uncle hold them close, or stroke their head, or hum and sing along, it can really help to convey their love, their caring, their desire to comfort.

I have found in all my work as a musician in healthcare that where the music itself ends, the interactions it sparks continue to ripple through the space remaining, often long after the musician has gone. Perhaps one of the biggest impacts of my work is when I am not present to witness it…

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Mary Dunsford is an associate musician of OPUS Music CIC, and has been working at her local hospital setting, Furness General Hospital, for the last 12 months. We are delighted that Mary has been granted a further 2 years funded residency, through the Sir John Fisher Foundation, to continue her programme of work making music on her harp for and with visitors, staff and patients at their bedsides.

Listen here for a BBC Radio Cumbria clip of Mary’s work from last year.

 

We get a wide range of reactions to our music-making in children’s hospitals – from the babies, children and young people themselves, and from their families and staff.

Staff greet us with delight as colleagues, often give us a ‘heads-up’ about their ward, and go about their work with the confidence that we will contribute positively to the environment and the people within it.

Patients and their families, especially those who have not previously experienced music-making in the hospital, often greet us with a look of surprise and amazement that music is ‘allowed’ in such an environment. Many instantly express delight that music can now be part of their hospital experience, some exhibit initial slight concern or embarrassment about what might be expected of them in return.

The interaction between professional musician and professional healthcare staff, both working as part of the same team, along with some gentle confidence on the part of the musician of their place and potential value in the setting usually sets everyone at ease, and allows the music to flow from everyone.

There are some patients, however, for whom there are no inhibitions, potential embarrassments or pre-conceived perceptions of what a musical offering could be. We met one such patient recently in an Accident and Emergency department. Sitting on his Mum’s knee, this young baby engaged the moment we began to play. Showing no signs of embarrassment, he looked straight into my eyes and connected instantly. He had been crying before we entered the space, but was now transfixed by the music and the human connection, and began gently wriggling and vocalising along to the music, taking time out occasionally to grin at his Mum and at us until eventually gleefully playing a shaker along with us. The sense of relief and joy between baby and his Mum was palpable.

At the same time, an older boy was sat with family in the next bed. His initial reaction, and to some extent that of his family, was one of giggling, possibly through embarrassment and the lack of ‘coolness’ of the whole situation. He and his family, however, watched intently as we played for the baby and his Mum. What I think they saw, was a musical connection made between musicians and family, one where no-one had any expectations, where everyone could be exactly who they are, and where they could all be part of a beautiful artistic exchange.

By the end, the older boy was filming us on his ‘phone, watching everything intently and joining in with songs along with his family. His family said he had been very upset before we arrived. We had, at least for a short while, given him some relief from this, and demonstrated the impact of strong connections made through honest music-making. As we left, he smiled, clapped, and thanked us for visiting. Upset was replaced by delight in the shared experience he had just been part of with his own and another family, and with the two rather ‘uncool’ but egoless musicians who had, for a short while shared some quality time through music making.

Music, especially in the hospital environment, gives everyone the chance to be themselves, to forget inhibitions and embarrassments, and to make human connections and great music which supports their own health and wellbeing.

Nick Cutts
Director, Musician & Trainer, OPUS Music CIC

I have met and played music with James (name changed) several times while he has been receiving treatment in hospital. Our first encounter was on my second day as an OPUS Apprentice and remains one of my most memorable experiences so far. James’s Dad saw us coming down the corridor and, after checking with James, invited us in. As the three of us entered his room James greeted us and asked my name as I was new. After a brief sizing-up of our instruments James began leading us in a musical improvisation. Eyes shut with concentration he conducted us effortlessly, without hesitation, his every hand gesture full with musical expression, which we followed with equal focus. Often he would sing out and whoop and we would respond and riff on his signals. It was wonderful to see someone so completely engrossed in what they were doing artistically, beyond all sense of ego. He channelled every part of himself into creating the music he wanted to hear. The joy and satisfaction we were feeling resonated through the room and out into the corridor, prompting nurses and James’s Dad to look round the corner, smiling and nodding their heads. “That’s James” his father said as we left, with look of pride.

For the next few weeks I found myself secretly ‘hoping’ to see James, so we might relive our great musical encounter. I felt that perhaps this was a selfish thought, as he was hopefully out of hospital and living his life. This is something that happens so often with music; the wanting of those great moments all the time. Yet my role as a Musician in Healthcare demands so much more than this. The hospital is a challenging, ever-changing place where no two visits are the same. A patient’s conditions can fluctuate, on one visit they might feel like music, the next visit their door maybe shut, the lights out and with little sign of activity.

For me, James’s playing demonstrated so clearly the principles we work by as Music in Healthcare practitioners. To be open and generous with the music we make, sometimes playing, listening, and with sensitivity and a feeling of wellbeing within ourselves.

Dave McKenny, Music in Healthcare Apprentice, OPUS Music CIC
February 2015