Regular readers of this blog know that music has been important in our lives. That was true before Kate’s diagnosis. Since then, it has played a more critical role both as entertainment and therapy. More than anything else I’ve talked about our nightly ritual of watching music videos on YouTube; however, it goes much further than that. Music plays throughout the day and night. It doesn’t usually start first thing in the morning, but when it does, its purpose is to solve a problem. That happened this morning.
I had just finished dressing and was about to go to the kitchen for breakfast. A few minutes before, I heard Kate say, “Hey” and then something else I didn’t understand. It isn’t unusual for her to talk while she is sleeping, so I hadn’t checked on her immediately. It was 6:53 when I entered the bedroom. Her eyes were open and she looked confused. It was one of those mornings when she awakes “without knowing anything.” She wanted to know what she should do. I explained that it was still early and that she could just relax and go back to sleep a while longer.
I should have learned from past experience that would not solve the problem. I think I was just eager to fix my breakfast and take my morning walk. I tried to calm her with words as I stood by her bedside but quickly decided to postpone my normal routine. I lay down beside her, put my head on her shoulder and my arm over her chest. I spoke softly to her and told her my name and hers and explained that we had met in college, fallen in love, married, and had children and grandchildren.
While this may have been useful information, she was still uneasy and wanted to know what she could do. That led me to go in another direction. Music can be comforting. Instead of trying to explain what she could or should do, I simply started singing “Edelweiss.” After just a few words, she seemed to relax. I sang it another time before pulling my phone out of my pocket and turning on the audio system to “Edelweiss.” I repeated it several times and hummed along with it. She was calm. Then I thought of several other songs that she likes (“Danny Boy,” “Shenandoah,” “Loch Lomond,” “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot,” and “Deep River”) and played them for the next thirty minutes. The crisis was over.
I don’t know what I would do without music. I’m hopeful I won’t ever face that.
