The topic of death had always been taboo to me – even when it came to family members, we barely spoke of their passing. I knew that being pre-health, I would need to understand the role of death and dying in medicine, but I continued to push it off, delving into curative-based research. I applied to the Athena Hospice program after watching Being Mortal on a rainy day, hoping to understand the topic of dying better.
On my first day at Gilchrist hospice in June of 2023, I was apprehensive to have a level of responsibility during my volunteering shift, but other volunteers as well as our Volunteer Services Coordinator, Ms. Johnson, made me feel excited to start as a volunteer. I remember walking through the door and wringing the rain out of my hair before heading upstairs.
The first ever patient I decided to visit was ‘Shirley’, a vibrant woman in her mid-50s, who had been admitted to hospice in the beginning of May after battling with stage IV breast cancer. Walking into the room, I could only think of two questions to ask: How are you? Is now a good time to come in?
Immediately, Shirley smiled and asked for my name, I answered quietly at first, then when she ushered me closer with her hand, I repeated it loudly so that she could hear me. She began telling me about how she hated the rain, pointing to my frizzy hair and saying the same thing happened to her when she was younger, and how the ‘dog days of summer’ weren’t meant to be wasted on rain.
On the Fourth of July, her family would eat hotdogs until they were stuffed and watch the fireworks at the local park at night – when the sun still left the ground warm and the kids could splash around in the kiddie pool. She asked me to wear a Fourth of July hat from her silly hat collection and we sat there and laughed as the hours passed by.
On another warm day in August, the weather was kinder, and our conversation was about her birthday and her adoration for the beach and the Amish Food Market – specifically, a walnut brownie from their bakery. Suddenly, she quietly wondered out loud if she would be able to go home for her birthday when she was ‘better’, mumblings about how her friend had been in hospice and had gotten better by the will of God. For the first time in the two months I had spent with Shirley, it was silent.
That was the day I had to realize that not everyone has the privilege to ignore thinking about death. I learned from Shirley that you cannot save everyone, no matter how badly you want to. However, I realized what everyone did have in hospice: the beauty of autonomy. Instead of staying hooked up to a machine while they grasped for some sort of curative restoration, they could choose their own form of care. They could surround themselves with the ones they love and play board games instead of being too fatigued to move due to their treatments.
Becoming a hospice volunteer opened my eyes to the more subtle impacts of medicine. Sitting with a patient and listening at a time when they may feel alone truly made me feel like I was able to have a profound impact in their lives. Going into hospice, I was unsure of what specialities I would be interested in during medical school, but I am now especially interested in Oncology – a specialty that works closely with palliative care and emphasizes the patient’s choices as a priority.
It is easy to confuse patients for subjects when you are heavily engrossed in the medical field. The Athena Program and Hospice volunteering encouraged me to practice mindful thinking during every interaction I have with patients, and I was able to build on my empathy by coming face-to-face with the topic of death, where I learned most importantly that a person’s life should never be defined by their death. Instead of denying death, I learned to accept the concept as real, and it has forever changed my outlook in terms of pre-health and in general.