I work in an old folk residence as a clown on Wednesdays. We use a different approach in these centers, as opposed to in pediatrics and general hospitals. We visit elders and other people that reside there (which is anyone over 18 who is not autonomous). This particular center has a palliative care unit. The staff is hesitant to let us into this ward, understandably so. We convince them that we are professionals and we know what to do and especially what not to do.
We enter the ward, no music, no noise and receptors fully open to everything happening around us. Things are quite quiet, people are somnolent, the stress and tension is high. We get to an open door. There is a man standing in front of a wall which is covered with pictures. He doesn't see nor hear us. He's in his 50s and looks fit. I look at my partner, I can tell she's ready just by her look and so I knock. The man, a little startled, turns to us. He looks very confused by the sight before him.
I ask, “Can we come in?”
He answers, “Do you know where you are?”
I say, “Yes sir. Can we come in?”
He answers very dramatically “You are in the place where people come to die!”
I calmly answer, “Yes sir. Palliative care. We know. May we come in?”
A little baffled by my answer, he nods, yes. So we walk in, introduce ourselves and ask to see his pictures. Bullseye. He proudly shows us the pictures of his family, his life, his adventures. He quickly gets very emotional when talking about his family and how he doesn't want to leave them behind. We open our hearts to him and empathize best we can. We talk about love, luck and life. We then slowly and very respectively start lightening up the mood, we accelerate the rhythm, I say something silly, I get a laugh, we share a laugh and finally end up cheery and joyous. We pay our tributes and let him know that we will come back to knock on his door the following week.
Comes the following week and we never make it to his door. As we move towards the unit, he is waiting for us at the entrance. He is now in a wheelchair. (We had already heard about the impact of our visit with him from the staff before our shift but it was a mesmerizing sight to see him there, so excited about our rendez-vous.) We spend a good amount of time with him. We pick up where we left off. I can tell he's in a different “phase” mentally. We play music, share stories and emotions and he sees us off.
The week after he is not waiting for us at the entrance. His room is dark and he is lying in bed. I play soft, slow rhythm-ed music on my harmonica. He doesn't wake up. We stay with him for a while. We tell him stories with picturesque sceneries inspired from his life story. We hug him, hold his hands and kiss his cheeks. Then we see him off.
The week after that, the pictures are down, the room has been cleaned and someone else is lying in the bed.
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