Bring Me to Life

“How can you see into my eyes like open doors?
Leading in you down into my core where I’ve become so numb”

― Amy Lee

I had my first dose of Recreational Therapy (RT) behind the wall at Folsom today. Sorry I asked earlier what that type of therapy involved. Sorry I joked that I wanted some of that…someone was listening.

That someone scheduled it when I wasn’t looking. After a particularly hard day with both PT, OT, and having to see a shrink. Can you believe that? I had to see a shrink. And, I called her a shrink. And she said it’s been a long time since someone called her a shrink. And it looked like she was 23 so how long exactly has it been since someone called her a shrink? The head shrinking went well since they didn’t lock me up on the 6th floor in a white jacket with Pigboy. At least not yet. For today, at least, that conversation will stay behind the fence here at Folsom.

Regardless, I want to talk about RT. Specifically a branch of RT called music therapy. A therapist, playing a guitar, and singing songs with the patient. I don’t sing Karaoke. Why would I want music therapy? I like music…but…I’m not a fan of singing publicly with people unless everyone is screaming at a rock concert. That’s my vibe. Not Kumbaya by a fire pit. Yet here we are. Music therapy, 3 pm.

The therapist with the guitar we will call Kahyla bore a striking resemblance to Tracey Chapman (fore shadowing). With her was a classically trained vocalist serving as an intern from a music conservancy in the Shenandoah Valley. We will call her Maddie. And then there was the patient. Yours truly. I can’t think of anything more awkward than musicians picking me up from my hospital room and taking me to the garden pavilion outside the hospital to sing to me, with me, at me, by me…I had no idea what was about to happen. On our walk out I started to ask questions pertaining to what exactly was about to happen. I quickly deduced, from Kahyla’s discussion, that this was going to be one long tear jerk session. I was meant to emotionally connect to the music and then let it all out… F’ that…I want back in jail. I want no part of an emotional connection such as this…particularly with two complete strangers.

Well we got to the pavilion and sat there for a few moments at a picnic table and I wondered how this was going to start. Was it Row Row Row your boat? They asked me what kind of mood I was in? The only song that has been going on in my mind today is the bitter one by Jelly Roll I’ve taken as my theme song for getting gaslighted at Fairfax Abysmal, aka Attica. Jelly Roll singing, “You ain’t nothin but a LIAR” The most definitive song about gaslighting I could think of…well…the musicians didn’t know it, but Kahyla pulled up her iPhone and it started playing…and we sat there and listened to it. And I got mad. And then it was over, and then I explained exactly what the song meant to me to those young ladies.

Then, she asked what else, and I said…what’s your country music repertoire…and she said old country. That could mean only one thing, Johnny Cash, the Man in Black. She said, what do you want to hear, and I said Folsom Prison Blues, and she’s like, I got Folsom. Then she opens her guitar case and out pops a very glossy black and gold guitar. She starts strumming, and all of a sudden I’m at Folsom Prison and she’s singing, “I hear the train a coming…” Boom chills. Maddie was right there with her on accompaniment with exactly the classically trained voice I would expect. When they finished I was like…let’s keep going with Johnny Cash…within seconds we all fell into a burning ring of fire. We went down down down, and the flames got higher. And we burned burned burned, the ring of fire, the ring of fire…

More chills… and I was beginning to think about the “show me the money” movie Jerry Maguire, but instead of the popular scenes where Cuba Gooding Junior, dancing around and drip-drying on the camera, he was being interviewed by Roy Firestone. Roy was bringing up all the things in his life that might make Cuba cry. And the trick was for him not to cry. And then he cried. I was shaking my finger in a similar manner…not going to cry for you Kahyla…not going to cry. But I was crying inside.

I was still in a folksy music mood Gordon Lightfoot came to mind…but the two very young musicians looked somewhat clueless. But when I said, Jim Croce, it was on. Kahyla started strumming “Time in a Bottle”. Maddie’s voice joined in with her angelic sound. I asked Maddie, what does she sing with her classically trained voice…what else was she singing…any show tunes. Boom hit again. Kahyla started strumming a Les Mis tune and Maddie didn’t miss a note. Do you know what that’s like to have “On My Own” sung right to you from a classically trained vocalist?

After that bit of joy it was time to switch gears. We talked about rock and roll, which I wasn’t into at the moment, but for whatever reason Kahyla said, how about def metal. I said, only when I am driving. But I do like Evanescence, and she said, oh, I played “Bring me to life” on a cruise ship last year. She starts strumming and Maddie starts in, “How can you see into my eyes, like open doors?” And we are rocking, “Wake me up inside, Wake me up inside, Call my name and save me from myself” Add, in the background, the 6 floors of the Folsom medical facility rising as a backdrop in my field of view. Pretty sure the music video for “Bring me to Life” has Amy Lee out on the ledge of the hospital. Can’t think of a more powerful setting for that def metal ditty.

We had time for one more…and since Kahyla looks a bit like Tracy Chapman, off we went. Finishing with “Fast Car” ending the most unique and personal therapy session I have ever experienced. As they wheeled me back into the hospital I can only say it didn’t look the same. Things had shifted. Colors were brighter. There was more light in the hallways. My growing glum perspective on things like being gaslighted last week was being lifted. I didn’t cry…but I wouldn’t discount breaking into tears later tonight. It was a beautiful experience.