Music has a primal power to impact quality of life whether it creates healing, happiness, self-expression, human connection or calm. Austinites, as listeners and performers, know that as well as anyone. Most of our lives are imbued with music; in restaurants and retail shops, in our cars and trucks, our late-night watering holes. We play music and it takes us away, to re-connecting, remembering, re-energizing.
When we are ailing, music can be soothing or pleasantly distracting and help with pain or worries. When most of us walk into a doctor’s office, our blood pressure rises about 10 points, our heart rate rises, and we feel anxious. When we are told we need surgery, that is a whole other level of stress. Music plays a big role for both my patients and me in the operating room. It can provide connection and calm.
After I talk with a person and examine their shoulder, elbow or hand, I arrive at a diagnosis. If I feel surgery is truly the best option for them, I recommend it. And then there is a pause, a reflection and a moment of wonder. I am always moved by my patients’ sudden and extreme faith. It is as if they are saying, “I just met you like 15 minutes ago, but sure, cut open my body. Take saw blades, scalpels, drills, screwdrivers, and chisels to me as needed. Whatever you think.” I am humbled by their trust. At the same time, I see “healing with steel” as actionable empathy. As surgeons, we listen, hear, see, understand, enter and attend. With this primal connection, this precise and sensitive action, we can alter the quality of a life.
On the day of surgery, I greet my patients on the gurney, and I can see the anxiety in their eyes. I say, “I know you’re worried, but I am confident that the surgery will go well ,and you will feel much better.” Then I say, “I always play music when I’m operating. You may not remember much of it, but what would you like to hear?” They always perk up with this. Most often, they say, “Whatever you want to listen to; I want YOU to be relaxed.” I tell them, “I like almost everything. And I’m always relaxed in the OR. It’s my happy place.” Then I might hear, “The Beatles!” or “I’m a classic rocker” or “classical” or “anything except what my 17-year-old plays these days . . .” This choice, this brief moment of control, this conversation about music, just before “going under,” has a calming effect.
Despite being in practice for over 20 years, I am continually inspired and intrigued by people’s stories; what they do, how they live, who and what they love. In addition to diagnosing their medical concern, it is so fascinating to learn what makes someone tick or creates a lift– the Talking Heads, fly-fishing, angel hair pasta, the banjo, rock climbing. The music they love.
-O. Alton Barron, MD