When I first met my patient (I will give her the name “Jane” for patient privacy) I was unsure of what our relationship was going to be like. Her polished room, with neat labels on most things, and an organized array of familial pictures gave me an idea that she was someone who was very proper in her ways–which intimidated me a bit. One of the first things she asked me was why I was there with her in the first place. Were there other patients that I was seeing too? When I refused and assured her that she was the only one I was interacting with for now, she seemed astonished. Although she had many family pictures, with 6 children and many more grandchildren, there was an air of loneliness in the room. She mentioned how her children do visit her, but were usually talking on the phone or on a screen. I understood the feeling a little too well, where one could be surrounded by family and friends, yet still feel isolated.
So I approached all of our meetings trying to combat this isolation. I slowly learned more about “Jane”–how she was a first grade teacher, with a special passion for English and words in general. She specifically liked playing word games that made you think, such as guessing a pair of rhyming words, when given synonyms for the words. As our meetings continued, I explicitly and implicitly learned many things from “Jane”. I learned the importance of company specifically, and truly being present when listening and interacting with someone. I saw the importance of friendship to “Jane”, where she tried to make friends with another lady in hospice care who recently lost her husband to Parkinson’s disease.
Recently, however, “Jane” passed away around a week ago at the time of me writing this. Having the pleasure of meeting “Jane” has genuinely been a transforming experience within me. Although our conversations weren’t necessarily philosophical and profound at all times, “Jane” taught me the importance of family and companionship. She would always talk about her family and friends being there for her throughout the years. At one of our last sessions, she did say that sometimes it gets tiring talking about trivial, superficial things with other people–including her family sometimes, which she feels disconnected to often due to her state. However, she mentioned that she likes having an actual conversation with substance, something she felt when we had our conversations when I came to visit her, was companionship that made her feel less alone. That day, she called me her ‘friend,’ which was the best gift she could have ever given me.
I had always known the phrase that humans are social animals. Having others to talk to and be in the presence of is an important aspect of living that I took advantage of until I started to actively work in healthcare as an EMT. In my time on a transport truck as an EMT, I had seen the effects of loneliness in the elderly. It seems to sicken them, akin to a physical disease. The reason I chose to do hospice in the first place was to attempt to cure this ailment from those who feel as though they are discarded from society. “Jane” would sometimes allude to the fact that she was not as close with her family anymore, with the undertone that although the generational gap was inevitable, it still hurt. She would be surrounded by family at a Christmas party but still feel miserable, saying that she “would just be in a small corner and just very tired of everything.” But of course, she could never complain to her family, as what would there be to complain of? How could she complain when everyone had larger issues in their lives?
Conversations like these made me reflect more on my role as a companion to not only “Jane”, but other important people in my life. Have I been looking closely at my loved ones? Do I truly know what is going on in someone’s life? No matter what the answer, it is important to talk to others and be present to show them that they are supported and loved.