As those who read this column regularly already know, I often get my writing inspiration from my ambulatory clinic. Recently, I had the opportunity to promote one of my favourite subjects with the caregivers of elders living with dementia: in both cases, a family member was not able to accompany their parent’s visit. 

During the discussion with the patients (up to the point that they could participate) and with the care-providers, both of whom had been with their clients for many years and had accompanied them to my office, I asked about their activities, including what they did at home, since each of them attended day programs a few times a week. 

I asked about their access to music, and in both cases, I was told: yes, they had access, but in essence that meant the radio was on, tuned to a station that played music with no particular relevance to the person’s past life, musical preferences or experience.

I explained to the caregivers the importance of playing music that was of unique importance to the patient in terms of familiarity and associations, a goal that could not be achieved with the radio.

To demonstrate my point, I did a quick search in one case for Internet sites with Yiddish music, and very quickly found a few sites. One site listed many songs that I recognized from my childhood when my maternal grandmother, who helped raised me and lived with me, exposed me to Yiddish songs. She did this through a combination of the songs she sang to me at bedtime and the fact that she was in a Yiddish choir, and when I was old enough, she had me accompany her on the piano while she rehearsed. She also took me to the concerts and to Yiddish language musicals (often with fabulous sets and dozens of singers), which I recall vividly.  

The first piece I chose for my patient was one I assumed the patient would recognize, even with her profound dementia, as it was such a staple of Yiddish music that it has entered the musical lexicon of non-Jews as well, 

I clicked the mouse, the music came on, and within moments that it took for the music to be recognized, a smile started to appear across her face and she started nodding her head to the music and tapping her foot, which the caregiver pointed out to me. 

After that demonstration, I instructed the caregiver to explain to the daughter that she had to find a way to get a CD player and get some classical Yiddish CD discs and have them played for a period of time for her mother. 

The second patient was Hebrew speaking and I repeated the process with Hebrew songs and observed the same response.

The impetus for my recommending music to patients living with dementia comes from a number of experiences.  Much research has been done in many academic centres, including Baycrest, that demonstrate the neurobiology of music and how our brains are wired so that music is recognized and appreciated with the production of brain chemicals associated with pleasurable experiences. 

And watching live musical programs at Baycrest that the patients and residents of the centre attend almost every week, we see many of the residents, patients and their caregivers responding to the music in an uplifting and poignant experience that includes singing and dancing and moving to melodies.

Lastly, there’s a video, Alive Inside, about an elderly African-American man living in a nursing home, mute for a number of years. Music  from his era (the ’30s and ’40s) was played to him through ear phones, and his response was almost miraculous in terms of an awakening of his senses and his verbal responses and accompanying singing.

Music is universally loved and appreciated. For those living with dementia and those providing care, it can provide stimulation and pleasure and enhance all aspects of caring.