Singing was the only time I felt in control of my lungs and, paradoxically, able to forget about them.
It was October, and my shortness of breath had worsened after weeks of teasing improvement. I felt breathless walking or resting, lying down or sitting, working or watching Netflix, talking or silently meditating—but not while singing.
Since my likely COVID-19 infection last June, I’ve grown familiar with the discomfort and frustration of feeling as if my body isn’t getting all the air that it needs. I’ve also come to deeply appreciate the moments when my breathing returns to its autonomous function and takes up no portion of my consciousness.
My early symptoms a year ago were fairly typical for COVID-19: sore throat, headache, fatigue, and shortness of breath. Although I never tested positive for SARS-CoV-2, some of my doctors believe that I was infected. I also suspect it, given that I’m still dealing with symptoms a year later.
From September 2020 through April 2021, we met one weekend per month to learn a Yoruba play song from Nigeria, a song from the Sevdalinka tradition in Bosnia and Herzegovina, an Appalachian standard, a folk song from the Gilan province of Iran, and many more.
Longer Breaths, Lower Stress
Long before COVID-19, music therapists had used singing and wind instruments to help patients with respiratory issues like chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) and asthma.And the controlled breathing required for singing or playing the harmonica can help a person fully grasp what it means to lengthen exhalation.
“When you breathe into a harmonica ... you’re hearing a pitch,” said Block, whose team has led harmonica groups for COPD patients. “That’s teaching them that that’s the marker, so they’re doing it right.”
Loewy leads a choir of patients recovering from strokes. It can look like any other choir at certain moments.
“But in between the songs, we might focus on the memory,” she said. “We’re constantly seeking ways to help people stay well with music.”
Researchers are beginning to study whether these same therapies can help patients recover from COVID-19 as well.
Having first experienced breathing exercises in choirs, I thought ENO Breathe made sense. Singing warmups can help prepare the body for sustained exhalations. Breathing from the diaphragm—a muscle separating the chest and abdomen—is how singers get more air into their lungs to support the power and length of their notes.
Loewy’s team and Mount Sinai’s Center for Post-COVID Care plan to launch a year-long study of how weekly virtual group music therapy might improve respiratory symptoms, depression, anxiety, quality of life, fatigue, sleep, and resilience in long-COVID patients with continuing respiratory issues.
‘Peace in the Chaos’
I turned to music for help in a less clinical capacity, but I’m not the only person with persistent COVID-19 symptoms to do so.When Danielle Rees, 34, of Tucson, Arizona, learned about a breathwork program used by many other “long haulers,” it reminded her of singing. So, she dug out CDs of her high school choir and started singing along, “because it’s way more fun than just trying to breathe in and out for 10 minutes.”
Singing through an entire song again makes her feel accomplished, as does playing piano, something she hadn’t done since grade school.
“When I felt like I wanted to practice piano, I was able to sit down and make that happen,” Rees said. “That, for me, was a big sign that my brain was functioning again.”
I’ve heard from other long haulers struggling with cognitive challenges, often referred to as “brain fog,” who hope that teaching themselves to play a new musical instrument will help them out of it. Others sing, play instruments, or just listen to music to bring some normalcy back into their lives and help them find solace from the anger and anguish of long COVID.
Music therapists say it’s difficult to separate the entwined physical and psychological benefits of their work due to how connected the mind and body are.
I don’t know whether singing through my shortness of breath last October simply soothed me or actually improved how my lungs functioned. I suspect it helped on both fronts.
Music helps combat the anxiety and stress caused by a lack of socialization, Block said.
“Music, historically, was something that was just always really amazing at bringing people together and kind of creating a social context in and of itself,” he said.
Because of internet latencies, syncing voices or musical instruments is practically impossible over Zoom. I spent my virtual choir rehearsals on mute, singing along with an instructor or recording, unable to hear anyone else in the choir doing the same in their own homes.
Over the course of eight months, we recorded ourselves singing what we learned and sent those recordings to the choir leaders, who edited them together. During our last gathering in April, we listened to all of the collaborations in a Zoom concert.
I miss the feeling of first learning a song, when my vocal cords finally notch into the right note and hearing it in the context of the harmonies all around me. I miss the energy you give and take with people around you during a performance.
A virtual choir may not have been the same as an in-person one, but through the isolation, stress, and physical limitation, I was deeply grateful to have had it.
“During these times of great stress and great anxiety, things like music and the arts become even more important to people,” Block said. “It helps retain a sense of hope and a sense of peace in the chaos.”