Lindon Beckford knows the inner workings of Beth Israel Deaconess Hospital in Boston. For over three decades he has transported patients from the wards to the operating theatre, to treatment rooms or to the Radiography Department of the 672-bed medical centre.
But Lindon isn't your average trolley man. He grew up in Jamacia and singing has always been part of his life, so it was only natural for him to sing as he wheeled patients along the maze of corridors, navigated them up and down lifts and waited with them outside the operating theatre.
One day he was surprised when a patient he was transporting joined in the song. In that moment of connection he realised that music could minimise the anxiety the patients were feeling. He began intentionally singing to calm people’s nerves. Then he began asking for requests and often they would sing the song together.
Back then Lindon couldn't have known what scientists are now discovering with new research and brain scans about the way music can prevent anxiety-induced increases in heart rate and blood pressure and how it decreases cortisol levels, reducing stress. He couldn't have known that music increases dopamine levels and restores harmony to the body. Lindon knew because he'd seen it in action, in the faces and lives of the people he sang to every day. As Plato put it, “Music and rhythm find their way into the secret places of the soul”.
What a beautiful way to use a gift, not on centre stage like the surgeon or anesthetist but in the hallways and waiting rooms of life.
But Lindon isn't your average trolley man. He grew up in Jamacia and singing has always been part of his life, so it was only natural for him to sing as he wheeled patients along the maze of corridors, navigated them up and down lifts and waited with them outside the operating theatre.
One day he was surprised when a patient he was transporting joined in the song. In that moment of connection he realised that music could minimise the anxiety the patients were feeling. He began intentionally singing to calm people’s nerves. Then he began asking for requests and often they would sing the song together.
Back then Lindon couldn't have known what scientists are now discovering with new research and brain scans about the way music can prevent anxiety-induced increases in heart rate and blood pressure and how it decreases cortisol levels, reducing stress. He couldn't have known that music increases dopamine levels and restores harmony to the body. Lindon knew because he'd seen it in action, in the faces and lives of the people he sang to every day. As Plato put it, “Music and rhythm find their way into the secret places of the soul”.
What a beautiful way to use a gift, not on centre stage like the surgeon or anesthetist but in the hallways and waiting rooms of life.
It reminded me of the time I was waiting outside the operating theatre for surgery. There had been an emergency and we’d been queuing for a while so I asked the man transporting me how long he’d been doing this job. “Oh this is my first day” he said, “I’m the cleaner but they were short staffed today and asked me to help!” So began a fun conversation and I was so very grateful as the tension I’d been feeling slowly ebbed away.
I want to be more like that. It certainly won’t be singing a song, I was tossed out of the school choir for being tone deaf, so my voice wouldn’t reduce anyone’s anxiety, probably add to it. But I do have a listening ear, a sense of humour, arms that hug and I can speak a timely word and sometimes that’s all it takes.
St Irenaeus said that "The glory of God is man fully alive", and that's the greatest gift we have to give; our true self. The grandparent who believed in me when no one else did ... the teacher who made time to help me when I was struggling, who saw my potential and helped me glimpse it too ... the friend who sat with me through the tough times, who held my hand and let me know someone cared ... the neighbour who brought me a meal when I was beyond cooking it myself and the trolley man who sang when I was scared of the diagnosis ahead.
I want to be more like that. It certainly won’t be singing a song, I was tossed out of the school choir for being tone deaf, so my voice wouldn’t reduce anyone’s anxiety, probably add to it. But I do have a listening ear, a sense of humour, arms that hug and I can speak a timely word and sometimes that’s all it takes.
St Irenaeus said that "The glory of God is man fully alive", and that's the greatest gift we have to give; our true self. The grandparent who believed in me when no one else did ... the teacher who made time to help me when I was struggling, who saw my potential and helped me glimpse it too ... the friend who sat with me through the tough times, who held my hand and let me know someone cared ... the neighbour who brought me a meal when I was beyond cooking it myself and the trolley man who sang when I was scared of the diagnosis ahead.
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