Storytelling for Health was a conference that was so much more than the sum of its parts, and which underlined the central importance of storytelling for health, well-being and health-care services. As Andrew Davies, Chair of Abertawe Bro Morgannwg University Health Board, in his opening addresses at both the Posters and Displays Reception on Thursday evening and the opening plenary with keynote speakers on Friday morning so eloquently expressed in the context of the Abertawe Bro Morgannwg University Health Board’s strategy, storytelling and the arts are “not just a nice addition”, they are “central”.
One notable theme which came across from the constellation of talks, workshops and sessions was the value of story-telling, arts and humanities to assist people/patients in becoming and remaining well. The transformational effects of the arts and humanities constitute a measurable health and social benefit, ranging from reduced drug intake, quicker recovery to relieving pressure on hospital and healthcare services.
The poignant performance and videos delivered by Re-live on Thursday evening underlined in a truly moving manner the value of storytelling in helping those with mental illnesses move on and accomplish things beyond their expectations. In addition storytelling has an important role to play in palliative care and as we age.
However, storytelling not only benefits those with illnesses and chronic conditions, it facilitates the continual development of those working in healthcare so that they become more responsive and provide the best care. It is instrumental in pedagogy promoting the training of nurses and medical students with Amanda Page explaining how storytelling nights can be valuable aids in nursing education and Rachel Leyland expounding how medical students use stories to make “sense of the messy and difficult bits” when dealing with patients’ and their experiences. In addition, Jo Odell’s presentation on “The use of stories, collaboration and creativity in the evaluation of the Patients First Programme” furnished examples of how storytelling could be used to assess the learning of nurses. The long term gains from such instruction were endorsed in Clive Weston, John Rees and Cindy Hayward’s talk on reading and response to medical students’ written reflections (reflecting, reading, writing, responding), amply demonstrating the potency of storytelling to profit and sustain the practitioner as well as the patient, once it becomes embedded in clinical practise.
Moreover, through narratives patients, those with chronic conditions, can become collaborators, can become active in managing their needs. Peta Bush raised the merit of using patient narratives, stories documented on collage boxes to inspire and inform the design for care process. Instead of producing wearables (to support joints) in neoprene, which are “hot, sweaty, and factories for bacteria”, with noisy intrusive velcro fastenings, that do not fit with wearers’ identities, you can co-design more empathetic devices with their input, drawing inspiration from jewellery, nature and so forth.
The poster and exhibition display, in which I was privileged to have a poster on “Tinnitus Narratives: Encounters with heterogeneous noises” which addressed the use of stories and language in researching and providing care pathways for those living with tinnitus, featured a diverse range of projects and approaches. Rebecca Smart and Jack Eastwood’s poster on “Untold Stories” addressed the impact of storytelling and multimodal arts psychotherapy on an older adult mental health inpatient ward, whilst Helen Prior and Mind Cymru in their Poster on “Telling it like it is- stories of mental health” focused on how personal stories can be used to support the mental and emotional health of people and their communities, raise awareness, challenge stigma, and influence service delivery. Evidence of the depth and variety of the approaches can be sensed by the juxtaposition of Emma Lazenby and ForMed Films’ work in creating powerful films for medical education on topics such having a baby after post-natal depression and Allison Galbraith’s sharing of the Playlist for Life’s use of life-story and music in dementia care. Alongside the posters were exhibitions which included the Storytelling Cloak, a tie-dyed cloak, in which each tie dye represents a storyteller from the storyteller training in health care settings programme, decorated with woollen flowers from knitters around the UK. The final flower for this cloak, intended to reclaim well-being, is one which will represent the Storytelling for Health conference delegates’ responses.
The flowers, stories and conversations which commenced at this conference will live on and generate new narratives and initiatives.

Saturday afternoon, 2.30pm – what a slot! the end of the conference and competing with the final  key note presentation for an audience – I was pretty sure the storytelling at end of life session would have a fairly small audience. Still, I reasoned, those there would be really interested in the subject matter so we would have the opportunity for a lively debate amongst what promised to be an excellent group of presenters.
Well, I was completely wrong as to turn out – the session was well attended and our audience fully engaged. I was delighted to hear about the range of approaches to this work. The group approach we take at Sharing Stories for Wellbeing contrasted beautifully with the oral history led programme Pass it On. Speakers and audience had the opportunity to consider practical and ethical questions when working with patients at end of life. A healthy debate followed and practitioners from a range of backgrounds – academic, social work, therapists and clinicians all recognized storytelling as a powerful way to communicate with the person rather than the patient.
I was touched by the generosity of Jemma Newkirk and Lesley Goodburn in sharing their personal stories. They reminded me yet again of how precious the stories are that we each hold and the privilege it is as a practitioner and trainer to have biographical stories shared with me. 
The conference itself was a great way to showcase the range of projects taking place. By the end of Day One, I found myself rather wishing that I lived in Wales where there would appear to be a real enthusiasm for experimenting with storytelling led approaches into health and wellbeing! By the end of Day Three, I felt equipped to continue to drive my own area of practice forward towards making life story sharing available more widely.

This conference was an unexpected gift and one that I will value for a long time to come.  I arrived in Swansea after a long journey on Thursday feeling squeezed and tired, and drove away on Saturday evening with a head bursting with stories, reinvigorated by the power of  human connection,  and with new and re-discovered narratives for my own life and work.  
 
It is now two, nearly three, weeks on (I am embarrassingly late with this blog post) and I remain energised and inspired to broaden my work using writing in the field of health and storytelling.
 
Three performances have stayed fresh in my mind. I was mesmerised by STOLEN by the Devil’s Violin, a romping allegory of Daniel Morden’s cancer journey told with passion and vitality against a backdrop evocative string music; and
I no less affected by the strong and unambiguous patient voices that spoke out from Joseph Sobol’s Dispatches from the Other Kingdom and Karma Waltonen’s brazen comedy sketch about living with chronic pain. 
 
At the Narrative Therapy Workshop in the wonderful reading room I  used the tale of the Wizard King, and a method developed by therapists to help people to work through domestic violence and trauma, to rewrite the end of my own marriage and emerged as a wise and wonderful fairy godmother.   In the same room David Alderson’s candid and haunting retelling of an operation gone wrong resonated with my own experience of a surgical bungle and revealed fresh perspectives.
 
The End of Life stories session stayed with me too and re-awakened a desire I have to work in this field. I can also recall the Pope and Feather joke that Dan Yashinsky shared with Milton’s wife as he lay dying – and I never remember jokes -- and the enchanting ceremony that he created with a patient called Ed to honour people’s lives in the storm of depression.
 
I wasn’t able to get to Jac Saorsa’s talk but was lucky to meet her when I went to see her Cancer Ward 12 exhibition one lunchtime and remain haunted by the strength in the face of a woman who had asked to be painted in her dying days. 
 
My only disappointment was not to have been able to attend more sessions. This is a common experience at conferences with parallel sessions but never have I felt so torn on so many occasions, which is testament to the depth and richness of this wonderful event.
 
In particular, I would have loved to have heard Daniel Morden talk about the creation of STOLEN, to have taken part in the letter to the breath workshop and to have attended the session on Patient Stories.
 
Thank you so much to the organisers for their creativity and hard work. 

Invocation
 created by Edmund O’Sullivan and Dan Yashinsky with input from the in-patient storytelling group and used in Dan Yashinsky's keynote presentation at the Storytelling for Health Conference

Music:  Play the gamelan chimes
 
Words: 
The ceremony we are about to do is an honoring of your life – of who you are, who you were, and who you will become –
We gather to honor your courage in being here, and to remind ourselves that we are not alone on this journey -
Welcome, Travellers, and thank you for joining this circle

The Storm That Brought You Here
 
We know the storm that brought you here,
The storm of depression
That takes away your sense of purpose,
Your pleasure in life,
Your ability to move forward –
You are storm-stayed now
And this can be your sanctuary until you’re ready to travel again –

Four blessings
 
Here are four blessings for you –
We invite you to respond after each blessing with these words of affirmation:  Let it be so!
 
May you find your path of healing through this darkness
 
May you move your life on to new and fulfilling challenges
 
May you gain wisdom from your season with depression
 
May you share your wisdom with others who need it

You Are Not Alone
 
Now that you have found a haven
You will have an opportunity
To recover what you have lost in the storm
And to one day travel
To new destinations –
You are not alone -
Many have been lost in this storm,
Many have sought shelter here,
Many have travelled again when they were ready –

End of Ceremony
 
Music:  Ring bell
 
Words:
With the sound of this bell
We remember that though we feel broken,
We will keep trying to mend –
 
Music:  Ring bell
 
With the sound of this bell
We remember that we may go forth even in darkness –
 
Music: Ring bell
 
With the sound of this bell
We thank you for gathering and dream together of the possible wonder of new beginnings
 
Music: Ring bell
 
Group:  Let it be so

Within ten minutes of arriving to put my Playlist For Life poster up, I met Dan Yashinsky. His handshake warm and comfortable, his smile genuine and his eyes focused on friendliness.

'Ahh ...' I felt the instant relief and sense of relaxation that comes when you meet and enter the presence of a truly humane and humble-hearted being.
Now, I'm a little embarrassed to admit that I had no idea who Dan was or anything about his work. But maybe that was a good thing, as I wasn't in awe, or in the least bit self-conscious during our first exchange. He told me what he did in the care home in Canada and I told him about the storytelling work I do in care homes in Scotland. Immediately we shared stories of our story telling successes, confirming our believe in the great worth of this work. But then Dan gave me the gift, an insight into one object and one story which he has used and told to his residents. And the story, Stone Soup, a story that I too love to share, especially with older people. The object Dan said he passed around with the story was a wooden spoon.
'Of course!' I thought, 'Why had I never thought of that?!'
I had an instant image in my mind of the beautiful cherry wood spoon, my partner carved recently, and I knew that this spoon would be coming to work with me from now on.
I was blown away, if I had a new tool, or rather spoon, in my story-sharing props repertoire, after only ten minutes at the Storytelling For Health Conference in Swansea, what more would I accumulate over the whole weekend?!
Well, so much, that I can't quantify it - from insights into others' lives, passions, joys, fears, sadness, pain and achievements, to an overwhelming sense of connectedness to all of the people and places where stories and wisdom are shared.
The quote of the conference for me, and fittingly giving Dan Yashinsky the last word is : 'The more stories you know, the more ways you have of telling the truth.' (Jewish proverb)

I know I will be reflecting on the gains from my rich experiences at the Storytelling for Health Conference for a long time to come.  There was a great variety of themes and topics to choose from, and I enjoyed the refreshing mixture of performances, workshops, exhibitions and papers.
 
I came to the Conference with a desire to develop greater awareness and understanding in my storytelling work, and in particular, after contributing to Dying Matters Week for the first time, to be able to offer more useful support to people at the end of life.
 
I was very sad not to be able to go to everything, and I know that I missed many incredibly worthwhile experiences, simply through the exigencies of the timetable, so I am only able to give a picture of a small proportion of all that was on offer.  
 
I went to presentations on Patient stories, Stories in mental health and Stories at the end of life. I made a presentation myself in Stories with children, about my work as a storyteller at Ysbyty Gwynedd.
 
Two highlights for me were ‘Stolen’, by Daniel Morden and the Devil’s Violin, and the presentation of Re-Live’s work by Karin Diamond and Alison O’Connor.
 
I’m in awe of Daniel’s courageous and full-throttle approach to living with cancer.   I couldn’t go to hear him speak about his personal journey this time.  However, I did go to ‘Stolen’, and was struck by the skill with which he wove together traditional motifs to create a sustained and sustaining metaphor of the journey through life-changing illness.  I will never forget the man whose body had been turned to glass and then filled with wasps.  Only by drinking the Water of Death could he vanquish the wasps, and then be revived by the Water of Life.  
 
I knew of Karin and Alison’s work by reputation, and it was inspiring to see, on film, testimony from the very many people who have been enabled to share their own stories by working with Re-Live.   In fact, I was so moved by their work, that I have applied to attend their forthcoming training course.
 
I enjoyed the friendly atmosphere, the care and attention to detail shown by Prue and Emily and their team, the inspiring keynote speeches - especially from Eluned Morgan - and the chance to talk about things which are important to us with friends old and new. 
 
I was impressed in particular by Prue’s energy: she coordinated the conference; created a playful atmosphere, with prizes for travelling far or inspiring people and stickers for learning and using Welsh; took care of people who were touched too deeply by the subject; chaired three sessions and introduced a multitude of keynote speakers; made all the housekeeping announcements so that everyone knew where they were supposed to be … and when.  She even gave a paper to fill the gap when a speaker was unable to attend.   It’s clear that her own work in this field is of great value.   Thank you Prue, for being the perfect host!
 
My thanks go, also, to two generations of one family: to Steve Killick, who chaired with great sensitivity the session in which I presented, making it possible for a large group to really share their responses and to hear each other speak, and to his daughter Ciara, who volunteered throughout the weekend, and supported the chair of the first session I attended by carrying out, with great speed and courtesy, the unenviable task of racing with the microphone to members of the audience who wanted to make a comment from the floor.  Da iawn ti!
 
Finally, I would like to thank the two young students who waited outside the main sessions, brightly clad and brandishing colourful umbrellas, to escort or direct delegates to the different venues.  To me, they epitomized the sense of fun underpinning this remarkable conference.
 
I met old friends and new.  I talked about death, life, despair, hope … and stories. I shared laughter, tears, good food and good conversation.  And all this in glorious sunshine, by the seaside, in what Dylan Thomas, the city’s famous son, called ‘an ugly, lovely town …. by the side of a long and splendid-curving shore’.   Who could ask for anything more?

This is the image  of the mining trainees talked about in the last blog.

On Friday night, I can’t sleep.  My mind swirls from thought to thought, idea to idea, impression to impression. My dinner was a large glass of red wine in the Waterfront Museum just before the performance of STOLEN and a coffee and two Welsh cakes bought in the leisure centre opposite in the interval. My room in the Town House annex of Morgan’s Hotel has regency sash windows and a space-age bathroom with a shower designed for double occupancy. I’m staying here alone. As I walked from the station, Swansea shocked me with its deprivation then surprised me with its pockets of beauty and friendliness. It’s colder than I expected and then warmer too.
A recurring image in Daniel Morden’s performance is the missing woman and the red thread that will bring her home. I’m missing from my everyday life but no one’s looking for me. I am here following the red thread of memory back through my life and intention forwards through the power of story.  
Re-Live opened their presentation with images of Romanian orphanages and the red thread led me back thirty years to the time when Europe changed for ever. Those events are now history and for my younger friends and relatives, I’m a story-keeper of what it was like to cross the border into Eastern Europe.
The politicians speaking on Friday morning took me back twenty years to when I first began to work in Arts for Health – their same emphatic endorsement of the power of this work, the same articulated need for us to convince the powers-that-be, the purse-string-holders. The red thread here is hard to see in the giant weave of political narratives, a stories with no progression that will be told for decades to come.
More interesting for me were the veterans discovering their voices, a fairy tale of the wizard king with eagles and parrots, the drama of a medical error told from ten different angles where you could hear a pin drop, the talk over coffee and lunch with people from distant countries, the rendition of Shenandoah by Live Music Now’s soprano so three of us stopped dead in our tracks, eyes filling with tears. Dan Yashinsky made us laugh and then my heart stopped again seeing the tiny white feather float from his parka onto the dying man’s hospital bed, the red thread of loss tugging at its strings.
Most of the sessions I attended were in the Reading Room, once Swansea’s Reference Library, an architectural masterpiece, turning us into tiny creatures, talking and telling beneath the petals of a vast glass flower, surrounded by shelves of uniform books that turned out to be empty covers.  The red thread takes me back to childhood where libraries and reading were where I lost and found myself.  What stories should we include in those empty books?
Lying awake, following the red threads of this amazing – in both senses of the word - conference, I’m haunted by the gaze of the young mining trainee looking straight to camera in a giant blown-up photograph in the museum. He could be alive now, an elderly man.  He might be one of the daytime drinkers in the dispiriting Kings Arms Tavern next to the Volcano Theatre?  Or the man moving slowly on sticks who smiled at me in the Quadrant Shopping Centre where I went looking for the heart of the city? Perhaps he was able to go to evening classes for the workers and became a city elder making use of the spectacular Reference Library and advocating arts for health. Or perhaps he changed himself into an eagle to retrieve a lost daughter?
In the ravelled ball of the red thread of story, it’s all true.