Throughout this academic year I have visited a single patient, who I will refer to as Henriette. At first, our visits were somewhat awkward, and I did not feel like I was connecting to Henriette in the way I wished to. She was verbal, responsive, and could carry a conversation for the most part. However, the TV was almost always on and I often quickly ran out of topics for us to discuss during commercial breaks. I did not want to suggest looking at picture books or touching objects, because these activities felt demeaning to propose, for Henriette had fairly in tact mental faculties.
Nevertheless, as more visits went by, we often discussed how she felt bored in her living environment. I then began feeling more of a duty to help Henriette break her daily routine and partake in activities that she would not normally get to do or that took more direct attention than she might have been given on a regular basis. I began reading to her and I even painted her nails on a few occasions. The TV was turned off and we did word searches, completed puzzles, and began having increasingly interesting and meaningful conversations around all these activities. I began to see and understand the difference I was making in Henriette’s daily life and the more I saw how happy this made her, the more I wanted to continue spending time with her.
Unfortunately, just as we truly began to build a strong relationship and explore her interests, Henriette passed away. I was upset to know that her family had lost such a loving, delightful woman and I was sad to think that our time together was over. However, I was comforted to know that I had been able to bring her brief moments of joy and reprieve during what is often a lonely, difficult time of our lives.
My time with Henriette has led me to think of human life and death in its three parts: the past, the present, and the future. We often talked about her large family which is full of numerous, loving children and grandchildren. Through these conversations, I have come to realize just how important the connections we make with people are. As people grow older, they inevitably experience the loss of loved ones from their lives. Thus, while we are still able, it is vital to foster the relationships we can, for the connections we have with others are truly privileges. For this reason, it is also important to focus on the present and make the most of the time at hand. Once I realized how much I could impact Henriette’s day and way how precious the time we have is, I was motivated to do all I could to make my visits with her as enjoyable as possible. I wanted to give her as much comfort going into her future as possible. We never discussed her thoughts on death, but she often brought up one of her daughters who had passed away. She always spoke lovingly of her daughter and kept a photo of her on the coffee table. Henriette’s other children often visited her when I was there, so it was clear that her family cared deeply for her. I was honored to have been able to make her last few months of life a little better, even if I could only impact it one hour at a time.
I no longer intend to go into clinical medicine, but rather, I have decided to pursue a career in public health. I want to be able to not only affect the health and happiness of individual patients but be able to address issues in the ways in which people receive medical attention. My work with Holisticare has shown me the impact and importance of palliative care and has shed light on the flaws in how medicine approaches the topic of death. Regardless of a person’s identity, wealth, or beliefs, death is an experience that we will all eventually face and those in medicine should be comfortable discussing the realities of our immortality. Knowing its importance, I hope to help facilitate this conversation for all those who may not be able to do so for themselves and hospice has been an integral part of this realization for myself.