Drawing on their musical and clinical palliative care training, music-thanatologists use harp and voice to address physical, emotional and spiritual suffering at the end of life. Using music prescriptively, they vary the tempo and tone of music to respond to changes occurring in a patient's body, like a slowing of pulse and breathing, in the final hours of life. During their visits — music vigils — they alternate sound and silence to help patients and loved ones relax and rest.
Rebecca is actively dying. Her breaths have become agonal, and her skin is gray. Her cousin and I arrive at the same time, and together we sit by her side, offering her comfort.
Massage therapy has proven to be very beneficial for hospice patients and can lessen the need for pharmaceutical intervention. Massage therapy can provide immediate relief of pain, discomfort and anxiety caused by symptoms such as contractions, stiffness, shortness of breath, nausea, cramping and muscle spasms while simultaneously increasing feelings of peace and comfort. The simple act of human touch is one of the most ancient and effective ways to relieve discomfort in the body. Providing massage to the dying reinforces the wholeness of the individual regardless of what is happening to their body.
As a massage therapist for hospice patients, I went to see a woman with cancer. She was a published poet, very creative and very insightful, and the more I got to know her the more remarkable I felt she was.
By engaging the creative process of art-making, patients of all ages can enhance their physical, mental, emotional and spiritual well-being. Self-expression through art can help resolve conflicts and problems, reduce stress, increase self-esteem and self-awareness and achieve insight. For hospice patients, art therapy can aid symptom management, provide a way to communicate about their illness and facilitate exploration of spiritual concerns. No artistic skills are needed to benefit from art therapy.
An older adult woman was referred to me for art therapy sessions to help elevate her mood. She was mourning the loss of her physical abilities after a stroke. Her life prior to her stroke included teaching Latin and always having her hands busy with knitting needles.
I am nine years old, standing wide-eyed, frozen in the darkened hallway by the closed door to my parent’s bedroom. My mother is inside, gasping the words to the 23rd Psalm. Something is terribly wrong. Terribly wrong. I don’t know what it is, and I don’t ask. She’s been sick for more than a year, spending more time in bed as the months pass and recently, oxygen tanks were hauled up to her bedside.