Paul’s COPD and heart failure were both worsening, and he understood very well that he likely had months to live. He felt loss, sadness and irritability as his symptoms worsened, his independence shrunk, and he became increasingly isolated in his nursing home. He worked with his healthcare team to not go into depression or a manic episode, knowing from years of experience what each could bring.
I was leaving the hospital at about 9pm one night when I saw Paul from a distance, twirling in his motorized wheelchair under a street lamp near the nursing home. A portable sound system was playing electronic music from the 1960s, the air was slightly cool and the stars were bright. Paul’s face was alternately serene and joyful – he seemed released, transported.
Paul increasingly had music with him in the nursing home and on the hospital grounds. He seemed more rested, perhaps even at peace. I learned that his estranged daughter had started visiting and that their relationship was on the mend. I wondered which had come first, the music or the reconciliation.
Or if they were perhaps the same thing.
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