When art is good medicine
Art in Medicine program explores creativity in a hospital setting
Sometimes friendship doesn’t need words. The less said, the more deeply it is felt.
Amy Barnett and Sandy Johnson have been friends for 35 years. So when 51-year-old Amy pauses to consider what her 66-year-old friend means to her life, she has no words. Tears well in her eyes. A few seconds of silence pass before she envelops Sandy in a hug and plants a kiss on the side of her face.
She manages a word: “Everything.”
She wipes her wet eyes and continues. “She’s my best friend. I don’t think there’s anything we haven’t been through.”
True enough. They have shared joy and happiness. Pain and sadness. And moments they remember simply by exchanging a wink and a smile.
When they are not together, people will ask each of them how the other is doing.
So when Amy was diagnosed with cancer a year ago, Sandy was without a doubt part of her friend’s new and at times, scary, journey. She’d sit next to Amy and hold her hand during chemotherapy treatments in a large sun-filled room at the Walker Family Cancer Centre. Amy had a rotating lineup of friends who offered a comforting hand.
On this day, the friends are together at St. Catharines hospital. They sit side-by-side at a table in a groundfloor room where light spills generously through tall windows. Spread out in front of them is a collection of flowers — pink and white carnations, tiny white baby’s breath and deep green ivy.
The room is filled with a buzz of conversation. Other couples — friends, loved ones, caregivers — have come together to make a floral arrangement.
It is part of an Arts in Medicine program, a collection of fun and often unexpected activities for people who otherwise visit the cancer centre as patients.
Laurie Sadowski is its co-ordinator and her program is about offering art and all things creative in a healthcare setting. There is no predetermined goal. No purpose other than the activity itself.
People can sign up for workshops on topics that include journaling, songwriting or learning to paint with pastels. There is a book club. Coming soon: container gardening, learning about apps, macrame and photography. Musicians, artists and other performers might set up in the waiting room and offer an interactive, impromptu performance.
And Laurie often pushes her creativity cart filled with activities between the rows of chairs where patients recline to receive infusions of chemotherapy drugs, dispensing random doses of kindness.
Her cart is stocked with supplies — knitting kits, crossword puzzles, colouring books, fabric painting, origami and more.
“I love when people can come here and do something else,” she said.
“Something a little different. Something that makes them feel good.”
One woman routinely requested Laurie for a game of Scrabble every time she was at the hospital for chemotherapy. Sometimes, Laurie will approach patients with a smile and the line, “Can I beat you at Scrabble today?”
For the record, she is undefeated. The other day, she handed out small cards and asked people to write a message to someone they don’t know. She distributed the cards to patients on Valentine’s Day.
“They loved doing it. And people loved receiving the cards,” she said.
Maybe it offers people a different hospital experience. Maybe it’s a distraction from their illness. Maybe it lightens their spirits a little. Or maybe there is no profound underlying outcome. Quite simply, people will get whatever they need.
“If I can add a little bit of something positive to their day, that’s my goal. That’s why I’m here,” she said.
“I just want people to be happy.”
Friends Amy and Sandy say they leave a little lighter than they came. The energy created in the room is good medicine.
“I get in the shower. I leave my house and I come out and see people,” said Amy.
“I’m doing everything I want to do.”
Amy lives with infiltrating ductal carcinoma — a breast cancer that begins in the milk ducts. It was detected during a routine mammogram through the Ontario Breast Screening Program.
She lives life with intent. The resolve of choice and purpose.
“It’s the only way to do it,” said Sandy.
“We have a choice of every single thing we do,” said Amy.
“And I choose to be here with my friend.”
At the front of the room, 39-year-old Stacia Droese sits with her nine-yearold daughter, Makayla, and father-inlaw, Richard, 79.
Stacia is in the midst of trying a new chemotherapy drug to treat a rare genetic kidney cancer. Every two weeks for more than four years, she flew to Baltimore where she was given a chemotherapy infusion at a hospital there. That treatment ended last summer because the tumour had grown too big and another drug began at the Walker centre.
The Welland woman is thankful to be home for good. And to be able to enjoy the simple task of creativity with the people she loves beside her.
“It broke my heart to be alone there (in Baltimore),” she said.
“Now I can bring my father-in-law and make a Valentine.
“I can’t put that into words.”
She will help Richard buy a Valentine’s Day card for his 74-year-old wife, Lucy. And he will give it to her with the floral arrangement.
Behind them, 68-year-old Suzy Hastings and Pam Gauvin, 67, have finished their flower arrangements. They have been friends since they were five years old.
They were bridesmaids in each other’s weddings. A year ago, Suzy was diagnosed with cancer in her pancreas, liver and bones. Days later, they left for Cleveland to celebrate her birthday at the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
“Now we’re working on Motown,” said Pam, smiling. Maybe this spring.
Last October they went on a river cruise overseas together. “We had it booked before cancer,” said Suzy.
“And I wasn’t going without her,” said Pam.
She is set on living life.
“You’ve got to get up and go all you can,” said Suzy.
“If you sit at home and think about yourself, you’re not doing yourself any good.”
Pam looks at her friend. Cancer is a journey shared, she said. “Sometimes I’ve been down.
“The two of us here, we think of something else. Not the bad part.”
They notice people. They hear the laughter and shared conversations. They know the difference it’s made to their lives.
Said Pam: “You don’t see one person walking out without a smile on their face.”