I am now happily entrenched in the ‘Music for Medicine’ volunteer program at Sarasota Memorial Hospital. Unfortunately, I caught a nasty summer cold that’s taken me out of action for two weeks. Its not been fun but it may have been necessary just to take the time to step off the trail and just take a look at the view.
It’s been almost a year since I took my best friend Anne to the emergency room for the last time. I’d be lying if I said I’ve really dealt with it. As I described to one confidante: I am still with her in ICU when she understood she would never go home again. We cried together and I watched the months of hope and denial shatter. I grieved when she passed away a week later; I grieved when I returned to work and wouldn’t see her there anymore; I grieved that I couldn’t talk to her, text her or post funny things for her on her facebook wall. I grieved when I couldn’t tell her I finished my course work and was starting my practicum.
I still talk to her, I feel her with me at times but physically, she is gone. I miss her…
Anne had been my biggest supporter of my desire to get certified as a music practitioner. We had made plans to create an ensemble like “Concerts in Motion” for the Sarasota area. In addition to being a wonderful violinist, she had a skill set in grant writing and was always thinking about ‘where-to-next.’ So when Anne ended up in ICU, I played my very first set list of therapeutic music for her.
I played a few of the simple melodies from our textbooks and some folk waltzes I arranged for solo cello. I also played some of the Bach Suites for her at her request. It was no surprise that while she liked the “simpler” pieces, she kept asking for Bach. Back then, I thought it was her classical music training tipping the scales. I played for her in hospice – the day before hurricane Irma was set to make landfall. When I told her I would only play Bach (no dinky arrangements) she smiled. Anne passed away later that afternoon.
When I started to cull together a setlist for the hospital I tried to stick to the standard of keep-it-simple. I thought that should disqualify the Bach Suites, but I snuck them in for Anne and as a reminder to myself to keep moving forward even if it seems pointless. Sometimes I’d come to a Sarabande movement and skip it thinking it too complicated, but when the standards didn’t seem to be making a dent, I’d go to Bach.
After 39 patients and 39 patient logs, I’ve earned a new understanding of Bach’s music and why Anne felt so comforted by it. Simply put, the symmetry and the mathematical precision of Bach is an aural portrait of something greater that is with us, be it in spirit or in nature. It evokes the beauty, majesty and awe that simply “is.” It is devoid of ego and angst and shows us the way to resolution.
Bach is now a staple of my set lists and I have to thank Anne for helping me see this first hand with my various patients. Fear and anxiety, loneliness and boredom find movement, tension finds release in those perfect harmonic progressions. Perhaps it is also a map for me to get out of that ICU room and let go of that moment. Just a few nights ago, I had a dream about Anne. I was still texting her on my phone even though I knew she was gone. Someone told me I needed to stop doing that – that Anne needed to go to the next place and she felt like she had stay to keep answering my texts. Maybe.
Time to practice some Bach….
