BEST.EMAIL.EVER

I am truly not trying to brag or wave my flag or toot my own horn or however the euphamism may go...

BUT!

I recieved the best email of my life this morning and wanted to share. I am so incredibly humbled right now. I am so PUMPED to feel like I actually can make a difference. This patient is the patient I am working with on a case study right now, trying to show that while a client may be declining (this patient has a Parkinson's Diagnosis) music therapy can in fact improve self esteem, depression, and ultimately Quality of Life. This makes me feel like it's WORKING! Aaah! Music therapy R-O-C-K-S.

Anyway... here's the email (name and location has been edited to comply with HIPAA) if you are still reading this far into my rambling:

________________________________________________

Ann-

I made a social work visit to [patient] yesterday at [assisted living facility].  She was in a crabby mood but that’s besides the point.

She kept asking “where is the music lady?” and later started calling you by name!  When I was leaving, she said about 3 times, “make sure ann knows where to find me.”

Just thought you should know what a great job you are doing and what a difference you have apparently made for [patient]! Keep up the good work!

________________________________________________

<3

Seniors say the darndest things

Today we went to a new facility that I will be taking over during the rest of my time at Seasons. One of the facility's employees wanted to see music therapy in action, so off we go to see some the patients signed on to our services. We get settled into a quiet room, the patient was sleeping peacefully. As I start to play the patient's roommate walks in - having freshly showered. In order to give her some privacy my male audience excused himself from the room, and closed the curtain around myself, my advisor, and the patient. As I hear him close the door behind him, I also hear the squeaky clean resident yell after him, "Suck my d***!!" I look over at my advisor with what I am sure were eyes as big a saucers and holding back a laugh.

Throughout the rest of the session, thinly veiled (one hospital curtain separation) commands such as
"shut the hell up" wafted over my improvised guitar playing. But then the kicker came...

The roommate pulled back the curtain, looked at us, whipped the curtain back into place, called out, "EAT MY SHORTS!!" and stormed out.

I couldn't make this stuff up... even if I tried.