This is a story about taking risks; Sometimes when visiting a patient, you can push your luck and take a risk which doesn't come off. Other times one takes a risk, and it's the best thing you ever did at that moment! So this story is in two parts and features the same lady patient, an elderly lady who had a career as a concert pianist. Alas now, she is very confused and presents with classic dementia symptoms of confusion and disorientation. She was certainly abrasive and confused when I first met her about 6 weeks ago. I had been asked to approach her with a view to playing some classical piano music on my Bluetooth speaker. (I had mentioned this lady before but I need to refer back to it as a prelude to Part 2 which I will post tomorrow! )
So, this is what I had in mind when I approached the bay. I will call the lady Louise. She was sitting up in bed staring out straight in front of her with a glazed expression, calling out to the nurses in a loud voice “nurse, nurse” and “get me out of here” and “help”. This was interspersed with some swearing.
I didn’t go to her bedside but called across to Louise and asked if she’d like me to play Chopin. But she shouted out “No.” I was a little taken aback by such a short response but decided nonetheless, to give it a go anyway. I often choose to play Chopin’s Nocturne No. 2 in E flat major, to create a feeling of tranquillity in the bay. But yes, I was chancing my arm! And for some seconds it worked.
She listened quietly but then called out, “Is that my piano?” And here I jumped deeper into the hole by saying “Yes” thinking this might please her. But her interrogation continued. “Are you playing my piano”? I side-tracked that one and told her it was a recording. But the damage was done! She said something like I didn’t have permission and she became agitated. I faded the music out and began stepping backwards, tail between my legs and not daring to say anything more to her. I reported what had happened to a nurse in case the lady was to make a complaint. Perhaps I had taken too many liberties.
The following week, I avoided approaching her, even though I was in the same bay for several minutes. Once again, Louise was sitting bolt upright in bed, looking confused and disorientated and shouting out obscenities and calling for nurses. Of course, as volunteers we can cherry-pick which patients we speak with, but very often decisions are made for us. For example, the curtains might be drawn round the bed, the patient might be sleeping, or being attended to by doctors and nurses. Sometimes patients are just plain disinterested in engaging with anyone.
We can’t possibly see every patient when we go on our round.
Last week I addressed a lady who was eating her lunch. I called across to her and said “Hi Mary.” She said “Go away, I’m eating my lunch; I eat like a pig, like what you are!” I had to laugh but the 98-year-old lady opposite was really upset that I’d been spoken to like that and I spent time with her trying to downplay the comment!
Anyway, here ends Part 1 and I will follow this with Part 2 when I took another risk with Louise in the following week. This time with different results.
