I met Dianne at a local Hospice In Patient Facility on Monday. Her cancer had metastasized and was spreading rapidly through her frail body. Last week, the cancer was discovered in her brain and she was experiencing new and increasingly disturbing symptoms. Dianne was sitting in a recliner in her room and nibbling on dinner when I met her. She was weak and spoke in a quiet whisper, but was otherwise alert and oriented. When I asked if she might enjoy some soothing music while she finished her meal, she nodded and motioned to me to pull up a chair and sit beside her. As I played, she put down her fork, closed her eyes and let the music wash over her. Occasionally, she would mouth a few lyrics as I played; but for the most part, she sat quietly and listened. I noticed an old and worn bible on her night stand and asked if it belonged to her. She nodded yes. I then asked if she might enjoy some Christmas music. She smiled and whispered, Oh, yes! That would be lovely. Over the next 30 minutes, I played an extended medley of Christmas carols. Dianne drifted off to sleep, then would re-awaken with a start. Finally, she opened her eyes, asked how often I came to this facility and if would I promise to visit her again later this week. She said she wanted to hear more Christmas Carols. I assured her that I would return and promised to visit her first. A sweet smile spread across her face as she closed her eyes again and whispered Thank You. Within a few seconds, Dianne was fast asleep. When I visited Dianne yesterday, I hardly recognized her. Instead of her peaceful countenance as I left Monday, Dianne was barely responsive. Her head turned back and forth as if she was having a nightmare, her face grimacing from an unseen terror. I spoke her name and told her that I was with her. She opened her eyes briefly and looked at me. I asked her if she felt up to having me play for her and she managed to say, Please. I played a few pieces in slower tempos and interspersed arrhythmic phrases, but Dianne continued to exhibit signs of agitation. Her nurse told me earlier that Dianne was receiving more medication to help calm her, but she was not yet responding as they had hoped. Dianne was also drawing her knees up to her chest and attempting to roll over. Then she would stretch out again while her head continued to turn back and forth. It didnt take long to understand that familiar music, regardless of how I played it, would not help her relax. I began improvising with un-structured music, using deep, rich, resonate chords and arpeggios. Slowly, over the next 20 minutes, Dianne became still. Then she smiled and suddenly uttered one single word, Jesus! She didnt say another word or respond in any way. Within minutes, her hands and face became totally relaxed. Knowing that the sense of hearing remains active to the very end, I could not resist playing one last line from Silent Night for her - Sleep in Heavenly Peace, Sleep in Heavenly Peace! Was it the music and medication working together that comforted her? Or could her rest have come from the Power of the Name that she called upon? Only God knows! But I believe that God can work through the power of His presence, the medication AND the music. I am certain that I will not speak to Dianne again this side of eternity. But I rejoice in knowing that if she has not already broken free from her earthly chains, she most certainly will soon. And that indeed, her suffering will be over and she will dwell, fully restored and healed - forever in the house of the Lord.
Posted on: Thu, 04 Dec 2014 17:04:40 +0000