Through the guidance of the Athena Institute Pre-Med Hospice Volunteer Program and with the support of this community, I have developed the foundation for a relationship with death, to hone and build upon in future years. I say ‘relationship’ because I see this phenomenon as a dynamic thing to interact with, rather than something intangible and stoic to be understood from afar. Death is made meaningful by (and adds meaning to) its partner, life. That one cannot exist without the other is familiar in spiritual frameworks; through the hospice volunteer program, I’ve been able to better understand this concept on a personal level.
This past year, I was able to spend time with a wide variety of patients. Along with other departments, I volunteered in the dementia wing of the hospice facility. As a result, the patient relationships I developed varied in their levels of communication. All entailed the utmost level of respect. To me, this meant understanding that each person came from a different cultural background, and therefore might approach the process of dying differently and require something different from me as a volunteer. I could directly discuss illness and life with some patients by asking about the family, livelihood, interests, and places important to them. When spending time with other patients, I chatted about current events or simply provided company. Effectively using communication tools introduced to me by the hospice program has made me more confident in my aspirations as a future caregiver. By developing relevant skills, I find myself continually growing and increasing my capacity to care for many different kinds of people.
A particularly meaningful relationship for me was with Kathy (names changed to protect privacy), a woman who shared her love for soap operas and chocolate with me. Chatting about the merits of Oreo Thins versus Double Stuf Oreos with her, I found myself feeling a sense of comfort I had only hoped to convey through volunteering. Understanding one’s own needs forms a strong basis for caregiving. Being in tune with oneself enables us to better provide comfort to others. In connecting with Kathy, I was attuned to her needs as well as my own communication style, and we achieved connections in our viewpoints that enriched both our lives. Losing a patient is never easy. The warmth of my relationship with Kathy gave me reason to pause and reflect on death and impermanence when she passed away.
Loss can be sad, but it does not have to be scary, as death too often is in Western culture. Discomfort with others’ deaths as well as our own comes from a lack of familiarity and information. For doctors, a patient’s recovery is not only the goal; it is sometimes the only acceptable outcome. Through the hospice volunteer program, I’ve been able to see people like Kathy reflecting positively on their lives in their last days. Thinking back on my casual chats with patients so close to the end of their lives helps me see that death may be mysterious, but dying is continuous with life. By embracing the natural impermanence of life, we can appropriately value our experiences now and come to terms with dying. As a future caregiver, I hope to continue developing my understanding of impermanence in order to promote awareness, positivity, and spiritual understanding around the process of dying. With each other’s help, we can enhance preparation for and comfort while dying and accept it as part of life.