K is in his early 50s and has no vision. He lives in a private care home. He repeats certain words often, and has also got his own vocabulary with which he is able to express his basic needs. He is touch phobic, and will react quite violently sometimes to uninvited or unannounced physical contact, whether with people or with objects. In spite of being a wheelchair user, K is almost always on the move in some way; compulsively moving his arms, legs and head. He will also on occasion make a noise which I can only describe as being like a continuous braying. This lasts until he decides to stop, and he uses it in order to register his protest at something or - I sometimes believe - in response to pain from one of his lower limbs (K had a hip replacement within the last couple of years I believe.)
K had had certified music therapy before, at a centre in C'Church, with rather mixed-sounding results. I have no idea really what happened in these sessions, other than the name of the woman he worked with and also the fact that often the session would finish very early because of K's challenging vocal behaviour.
7th June 2010
Was warned on my arrival that K had had a very poor weekend, with very little sleep at all. He was in fact asleep in his new "wonder chair" when I arrived - a custom-built wheelchair that is comfortable and adaptable enough for K to remain in virtually all day long, if he so requires. When he realised that I was in the room with him he sat up and was alert, and I greeted him. I tend to keep up a simple running narrative of what I am doing with K so that he knows where in the room I am and what I am actually doing - getting instruments out of the case, moving drums about, getting a chair, that kind of thing. I had observed another member of staff doing this with K and it seems like the right thing to do.
K was very alert in this session, and he vocalised continually, using many more words than I had heard him use before. We were able to create a kind of a rap about his socks, with me doing most of the speaking and K joining in, keeping perfect time. I worked on demonstrating "drums ... stop!" and "ready, steady, drums ... GO!" K particularly liked the latter, extending the word "Goooooo!" for several beats. It reminded me of an excitable Football World Cup commentator shouting after a goal was scored.
K used my name quite frequently, as well as the name of his original music therapist. He also said "Drums" and is working on being able to enunciate "Bells".
In this session, K used no challenging behaviour or vocalisations whatsoever. There were in fact several occasions where I had the distinct impression that he and I were working together as one unit to make music - me with drums, leg bells and some vocalisation, he with his voice and by patting his hands on the arms of his chair. I had a real sense of partnership, with examples of back-and-forth playing which felt very satisfying to me (and hopefully to K, as well ..!) On two different occasions I sensed that K was joining in with the music I was making as opposed to the other way around, though I admit it can sometimes be hard to tell; so many of K's vocalisations are very rhythmical in their nature and fall naturally within a simple musical pattern.
Was able also to introduce new instruments without any dissent from K - in the past he has been less than enthusiastic about new drum sounds, for example. As well as the white cone drum that I often refer to personally as "K's Drum" I also used an adapted djembe with a light tone, two sets of leg bells and even a little bit of tambourine.
An "Adapted" djembe - just a cheap, rather battered djembe from Indonesia ...
I have screwed four rubber door-stops onto the bottom of each of these drums, which allows the player to create good bass tones without having to tip the drum, holding it with one hand or gripping it between the knees. The adaptation must have only cost me about ten pounds, and meant I didn't need to spend ten times that buying Remo Tubanos or something similar.
The session finished with the guitar and some gentle low-note singing from me (having been told in the past that K's protestations often seemed to coincide with any singing using a high, soprano female voice.) When I thanked K at the end of the session he responded to me and actually said "Goodbye!" as I was lugging drums and things out of his room.
Without hesitation I'd characterise this as the single most successful session with K to date. He was involved, engaged, focused, responsive, playful and evidently more curious than usual.
