“Umm… I Like Abba”

What is your guilty pleasure?

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Ahh… guilty pleasures. We all have them. (You’ll see some of mine below.) And when they come up unexpectedly, even on the oncology unit, all the better. Read on…

A recent referral on the oncology unit at one of the hospitals where I work as a music therapist was for a young gentleman, in his 40s, who was just diagnosed with a form of cancer. He was in the hospital as a result of pain, just found out this news and, as his nurse told me, “He is really withdrawn. He seems to be holding a lot in.” When I walked into the room, the first thing I noticed were all of the cool, graphic tattoos on his massive forearms and biceps. I immediately started scanning my heavy metal repertoire in my head for what may be appropriate in the hospital.

I said “hello” and asked if I could sit. He looked at me with some distant hesitation, and then nodded to the chair. “How are you doing?” I asked. “Good.” Pause. “How long have you been here in the hospital?” “Two days.” We sat in silence for a moment as I started wondering how to break the ice. “Are you from around here?” “Yes.” More silence. I figured I’d just sit for a minute and see if he would take this anywhere. We were both looking at the TV ‘watching’ basketball highlights.

Then finally, without looking at me, he said, “Is that a guitar?” “Yes,” I said. “I’m a music therapist.” A pause. “Do you play?” I asked. “A little.” (I was imagining him playing Slayer on a Jackson Pro-Series Flying V through some Marshall stacks.) After more silence, I decided to push a little. “I’m sure it’s hard to process being here and everything. Y’know, sometimes a little music can help just take the edge off, maybe help you think or figure out how you are feeling about it all.” Another pause… “What do you play?” he asked. “Well… whatever’s helpful. Sometimes I’ll just play some music on the guitar, like a soundscape, and you can close your eyes and breathe… relax. Or sometimes I might play some songs, something meaningful or maybe just something you like.” More silence. “What kind of music do you like?” I asked.

He sat back in his chair, seemingly in thought. His face was still pensive but after a few moments a sly smile took over. Then he sheepishly looked at me and said, “Umm… I like Abba.”

Now… two things immediately came to me. Either I heard him wrong, or, Abba (perhaps in some other language’s accent) was an underground German or Icelandic heavy metal band. Sensing my uncomfortable silence, he smiled and said with conviction, “That’s right… Abba.”

“Me too!” I said, and we shared a laugh. “So… how’d you get there? I asked. “Well, my mom used to play it in the house a lot and it made her smile, so…” I smiled as he seemed to warm up to me. [It’s amazing how even just talking about music, our unique likes, our passions, our ‘guilty pleasures’, sometimes just changes things. Breaks things down. We can all relate to music in some way. Music we are passionate about. Music that speaks to us. Music that we may be ‘embarrassed’ to admit we like. It’s relatable on many levels.]

“Can I play some?”

“Hells yeah!”

Therapy? Well… needless to say, he now seemed less withdrawn. He was smiling, singing, laughing and, more importantly, taking back some control. One of the great things about music, your music, is that when you listen and share it, you take some control back. He called the shots there. You also bring back a little ‘sense of self’. Your music is part of you. Two things that you lose the moment you walk into a hospital, or are diagnosed with a debilitating disease, is a sense of control and a sense of self. But… your music brings some of that back.

We sang a few songs together: Momma Mia, Waterloo, and when we jumped into a vibrant version of Dancing Queen, that actually had a little heavy metal tinge, the nurse busted in because she heard what she thought was the patient in distress. (It was actually just us singing so you a can take that for what it’s worth.) We froze and looked at her like two kids with our hands in the cookie jar. And we all started laughing. And then… the nurse joined us for the last chorus!

When she left, and the music came to a conclusion, he became a bit pensive again. He quietly said, “You know, I’m the one who is always strong, always the tough guy. Everyone leans on me. They think I have no fear. But this… I fear.” And there it is. The beginning of processing this unbelievable and scary journey that he is about to go on. I just listened. Offered him an empathic ear and I validated his feelings. We also spoke about how strong it is to ask for help from his friends and family. How he doesn’t have to go through it alone. What got us here? Well… music. Music created a connection, with me (I mean, once you belt out Dancing Queen together…) and, more importantly, with himself. Once some of the internal barriers were broken down, he felt comfortable and could speak to what was really underlying. That he was scared. And now that that was acknowledged, he could start working on it. Music therapy.

We chatted a little bit more, about what he was about to go through, and also a little about him and his family. Then, he took my hand and said, “Thank you. Really. Thank you.” And as I was at the door about to leave, he said, “Hey… Don’t tell anyone I sang Dancing Queen.”

What is your ‘guilty pleasure’?

I will admit, I do enjoy singing Abba every now and then. And Barry Manilow too. (Mandy?!? Come on.) I love Styx! (Don’t judge.) And I recently hid a used vinyl copy of an England Dan & John Ford Coley record that I just bought as I was walking out the store. Well, I hid it under the used copy of the original Broadway cast album of ‘Bye Bye Birdie’ that I’ve been looking for but that’s neither here nor there. Which reminds me of a time last summer when I was driving home on a beautiful day, windows down (and should have been listening to Van Halen) and put on the ‘Broadway’ channel on SiriusXM radio. I mean, I do have roots in musical theater. (Please don’t tell anyone.) I was full-on singing Hey There from the musical ‘The Pajama Game’ and just as I belted out the high note at the end, I came to a stop at a traffic light. I looked over at the young woman in the car next to me, a yellow Mini Cooper convertible with the top down. Although I may have looked embarrassed… she smiled. Perhaps because I hit that high note right on. Or maybe I made her day. Whatever…

I’d love to hear about your music ‘guilty pleasures’ in the comments below.

The healing power of music…

(*The stories presented in this blog are based on accounts or experiences and are not actual accounts or experiences.)

Raymond Leone, MMT, MT-BC is a board-certified music therapist and the director of Medical Music Therapy at A Place To Be in Northern Virginia

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