Most days, Lighting Bunny zips through the universe knocking villains to their knees with clever one-liners.
Some days, Lighting Bunny is in the mood for something more leisurely, like designing a new costume and choosing cute accessories for her next journey.
Every day, Lighting Bunny is a girl in a hospital trying to remember she’s more than a cancer patient.
“Role playing as this superhero helped her remember the things that hadn’t been taken from her, like her sense of humor and her incredible ability to show up for her friends,” said Hanna Rosenberg, licensed creative arts therapist and registered drama therapist with Sala Institute at Hassenfeld Children’s Hospital at NYU Langone.
Rosenberg uses her background in theater, plus her provider’s license in mental health, to help kids cope with their hospital stays, express emotions, and reconnect with their identities that existed long before they were hospitalized — and even discover new ones.
“When a kid comes into the hospital, they can get stuck in one role, one they didn’t audition for,” she said. “Suddenly they’re ‘the sick kid.’ My job is to help expand their roles.”
One girl awaiting a heart transplant discovered a passion for interactive TV programs during a therapy session in the hospital’s studio. Instead of a transplant patient, she was a sound designer, a host, a producer.
Another patient, hospitalized for months with leukemia, missed being a big sister. With a doll Rosenberg brought, the girl got Band-Aids for “owies,” gave piggyback rides, and rocked the doll to sleep, just like at home.
“People are role players and role takers by nature, and a person’s self isn’t singular but a big cast,” Rosenberg said. “When we help kids explore their different roles, we bring back their humanity.”
Therapy in three acts
While drama therapy draws from theater techniques like role playing and improvisation and dramatic projection, the goal isn’t performance. It’s expression.
“Instead of tell me about your feelings, it’s show me,” Rosenberg said. “Show me with your voice. Show me with your body. Show me with action figures or drawing or with a character you create.”
Each therapy session has a beginning, middle, and end, just like a story.
At the start, she checks in: How are we feeling today? Are we villain fighting or costume creating? Vocalizing or visualizing? What do we want from this time?
Choice is crucial, Rosenberg said, especially in an environment where so much control is taken away.
“Even a simple decision between using loud or quiet voices gives kids back a sense of agency,” she said.
Next is the main act. Some involve movement, props, or imaginative journeys. Others are quiet and reflective. Some last 15 minutes at the bedside. Others stretch closer to an hour in the hospital studio.
Then the curtain falls, and it’s time for reflection.
“This is a space to process the therapeutic work that’s been done and integrate key takeaways into their story of hospitalization,” Rosenberg said.
Influencing outcomes
Drama therapy can reduce stress, strengthen resilience, and support the emotional well-being of children during hospitalization, Rosenberg said.
“In a pediatric hospital, drama therapy meets kids where they’re at developmentally and emotionally and provides a safe way to communicate their lived experiences,” she said. “That leads to a lot of positive therapeutic outcomes.”
Often, drama therapy helps motivate reluctant or fearful kids to follow their care plan.
One middle schooler recovering from surgery was resistant to physical therapy and anxious about getting out of bed.
Rosenberg was recruited to help.
“I took him to the TV studio to imagine exploring the Titanic with his dad,” she said. “Swimming through the ocean, searching for treasure.”
The goal was still movement. The difference was how it felt.
“If you tell a kid, ‘Move your arms,’ it’s one thing,” she said. “If you say, ‘Let’s swim through the ocean with your dad,’ it hits differently.”
That shift made participation possible that day.
Another boy, due for an MRI, hid under the covers, afraid and tired of everyone and everything. When Rosenberg introduced herself as a creative arts therapist, he told her he hated art and music.
“Oh, that’s great news,” she said to him, “I’m not any of those things. I’m a drama therapist.”
Curious, he poked his head out.
“I ended up being part of his care team for his entire medical journey,” she said. “We were able to make a lot of meaningful progress together.”
Helping patients feel like people
Kids are referred to Rosenberg from all inpatient units, typically those who are having difficulty coping with acute hospitalization. Many have just received a diagnosis. Some are finally feeling the effects of a long stay. Others experienced a setback in their care progress.
“I work as a responsive and integrated part of the interdisciplinary care team,” Rosenberg said. “So my day to-day looks like partnering and standing shoulder to shoulder with those other professions.”
Rosenberg also facilitates group drama therapy sessions for caregivers to support one another.
While creative arts therapies like art and music are common in children’s hospitals, drama therapy remains comparatively rare.
From Rosenberg’s perspective, it belongs right alongside all the other forms of hospital care.
She recalled the words of a long-term cancer patient that she’ll never forget.
“When I’m here doing this with you,” she said to Rosenberg, “instead of a patient, I feel like a person.”
