A Patient’s Inner Soundtrack from Better Times

Illustration by Gingermoth. All rights reserved. Illustration by Gingermoth. All rights reserved.

She was at high risk for developing bedsores and it was important that she be turned every two hours, but when approached by staff, she would scratch, punch, and spit. Her speech consisted of expletives, which she screamed in a shrill, piercing voice.

Music can soothe, comfort, engage, bring a recognizable world into an alien one. And, crucially, it can allow a nurse or other caregiver a chance to provide badly needed care to someone with dementia or mental illness who is agitated, confused, hostile, or terrified.

In this case, the place is Detroit and the music is Motown. The short passage above is from the Reflections essay in the September issue of AJN. “Playing Her Song: The Power of Music” is not the first submission we’ve had about the ways music can reach patients when words and other measures fail.

Putting on some music would seem a simple kind of strategy, but it may be worth a try in some situations that seem otherwise hopeless. Please give the short essay a read. Reflections are free.—Jacob Molyneux, senior editor/blog editor

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A Fine Line Between Patient and Provider, and a Mother’s Plea for More Epilepsy Research

by Eric Collins, ecol-arts.com by Eric Collins, ecol-arts.com

Thomas is a frequent flier in our ER, a bespeckled 40-something with coke-bottle glasses, a man who seems to run, like a dog out for a joyride, right into the arms of the dogcatcher. The police bring him in, one man on each arm, his legs limp. Thomas has schizoaffective disorder, dives into the fountain at the mall, screams at strangers at the YMCA, paces outside the grocery store. In a way, I understand—sometimes behaving according to convention can be a little dull.

That’s the start of “Thomas,” the July Reflections essay in AJN by Emily Maloney. It’s about the fine, but still absolute, line that can exist between paid provider and patient at moments when life feels overwhelming to both. Or something like that—it’s hard to summarize a nuanced, lightly ironic account like this in a few words. Like all Reflections essays, it’s short, free, and worth a full read.

The July Viewpoint essay, “A Son’s Seizures,” is written from the perspective of a mother, Linda Breneman, who looked beyond her own experience to become an advocate for all those with epilepsy, particularly those with the intractable sort that doesn’t respond to most treatments. While most people with epilepsy respond to medications and can eventually live more or less normal lives, it’s the author’s well-argued conviction that more research needs to be done to help the subset of those with […]

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