This sensitive book demonstrates that art therapy is a surprisingly powerful tool for enhancing the quality of life for patients who are terminally ill, allowing them to regain a sense of control over their lives, and sometimes providing insight and access to hidden emotions. Art therapy is shown at work in a number of settings from hospices and hospitals to AIDS patients in prisons and people dying in their own homes. But the story and picture I liked best in the book and that encapsulates for me the usefulness of art therapy is told by Gill Thomas, from her work with individuals in a Marie Curie Centre in London. It goes in part as follows.
Sarah had introduced me to some of her family who, when together, spoke across her as though Sarah were not there. It was as if she did not have her own voice as an individual, or within the family.
Toward the later stages of her care, Sarah arrived at the art therapy group holding a picture of a ginger kitten gleaned from a magazine. This was of the 'chocolate box' variety. I have to admit to having some difficulty with this picture as a place for her to begin. Sarah had never made a verbal link with her feelings and the images that she made. My reaction to the kitten was that it was going to feed into her belief that this was an art class not a therapy group.
Sarah began to draw; she struggled desperately to draw the kitten. The more she tried, the harder it became. The kitten in her drawing had one paw that appeared to be very swollen and the kitten looked very angry. Sarah too had a very swollen arm due to Iymphoedema. This was the same arm or paw as the kitten. When I gently pointed out to her the similarities, and asked how the kitten was feeling, Sarah began to cry. 'Is this what art therapy is?' she said.
Once we had talked for some time about her difficulties in drawing the kitten, she was able to acknowledge that she was feeling angry. Sarah was very sociable and never refused a visitor. There are many volunteers and students that visit the hospice and Sarah always appeared to welcome them when they stopped to talk to her. It emerged that a male volunteer whom she did not like had become a regular visitor. She felt as though she was being petted by him. Sarah did feel angry and upset about this, but had not been able to tell him or acknowledge her feelings. By the end of the session, Sarah realised that the kitten was herself. She did in fact want to growl at this man and tell him to go away, and to stop what she had experienced as him stroking her. With support she was able to do this. The kitten torn from a magazine acted as a bridge for Sarah that day. Sarah had discovered a voice through her images and was able to begin to express her feelings in a way that was new to her. This also affected how she was viewed within her family. Her brother and sister seemed to relish hearing about her drawings and they were held in great value by them.
Nearly two years after Sarah's death her brother came to visit the hospice. He still had all of her drawings and spoke at length about his feelings for his sister. He told me how she had been teased all of her life and had never been taken seriously. He then said, "It is very sad to think that her time in the hospice was the happiest of her life."
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