Every Day’s A Learning Day (Part 1)
Many of us (not everyone!) dislike the sound of our own voice, but it is also true that most of us will recognise family, friends even acquaintances by their voice alone even if we have not been in their company for some time.
Our voice is important. It’s part of who we are, part of our unique identity.
Many of us have experienced the loss of a loved one or friend and unless we have had the foresight or good luck to record their voice, that is one of the things we miss and grieve for.
To no longer hear them say “hello”, or “I love you”, or just talking about their day. We miss that, don’t we?
That is why the experience I had the other day really had an impact on me.
As The Music Detective, I have been supporting a family who are living with dementia. In this family it is the son, Mark, who is affected. Mark is only 48 years old. He has been living with fronto-temporal dementia for several years
Tony* (Mark’s dad) visits his son every couple of days at the hospital where he has been cared for over the last eight months. Tony and the rest of the family have made Mark’s playlist for life for him. It includes 73 songs from the 80’s and 90’s as well as some of the well-known standards.
Mark has many of the symptoms of fronto-temporal dementia, including the way it has affected his ability to communicate verbally. His verbal communication now is made up mainly of groans, giggles and “ooofs”. He rarely uses words that we would understand.
The other day I visited Mark with Tony. We sat listening to Mark’s playlist. A member of the care staff came in and said,
“Yesterday Mark was singing along to some music he was listening to.”
“Singing!” exclaimed Tony “What...? Words?”
“Yes” said the carer “He was singing the song.”
“Unbelievable…….” Said Tony. He had a tear in his eye.
This had a big impact on me. What was happening?
Later I asked Tony if he was ok as I had noticed he had become a bit emotional.
“I haven’t heard Mark’s voice for seven months. There have been many losses over the years and his voice has been one of them.”
Before leaving the hospital, I asked the staff what the song was, that Mark had sung. I wanted to play him that song and keep him singing.
Sadly, frustratingly, nobody could recall what the song was.
One day soon we will find that song Tony and Mark - and others - if we keep trying.
On the drive home I reflected on the learning of that moment.
What would it be like to lose my voice and not be able to communicate?
What would it be like if my child developed dementia and I could no longer hear her voice?
I have determined that I am going to record my daughter’s voice: singing, reading, shouting, cheering… and I am going to remember the songs that she sings and make a playlist out of these songs. In fact, I think I better record my own voice too.
Every day’s a learning day.
*names changed to protect anonymity