This past semester, I had the privilege of meeting KS, a new patient I visited each week as part of my hospice care volunteering. From our very first conversation, she shared stories from her childhood filled with warmth, humor, and deep family connections. As we laughed together about our fathers’ reluctance to replace worn-out clothes, and bonded over our shared love of baking and cooking, I realized how universal human connection truly is. Each visit, I began to notice more details in her room: carefully arranged flowers, framed photos of family gatherings, and her grandchildren’s colorful artwork displayed proudly on the walls. These small touches reflected the immense love that surrounded her. Listening to KS describe how her niece bought her beautiful clothes so she could feel elegant, even in hospice, showed me the importance of preserving dignity and joy in all stages of life. Her face would light up as she talked about her favorite sweater or a simple banana at breakfast — her favorite fruit from childhood. Moments like these reminded me that what seems small at the moment can become deeply meaningful memories. KS never spoke about dying; she only spoke about how she lived. Her stories were filled with laughter, gratitude, and wisdom. Through her, I learned that the most important parts of life are not material comforts, but the relationships and memories that shape who we are. She taught me to be present, to listen deeply, and to appreciate life’s fleeting moments.
These weekly visits profoundly shaped my understanding of empathy and human connection. KS’s openness and joy, even in the face of pain and uncertainty, showed me the resilience of the human spirit. Her vulnerability became a lesson in courage, and her compassion inspired me to carry those values into every aspect of my life. As I continue on the path toward becoming a physician, these lessons have become part of the foundation of the kind of doctor I hope to be. I want to care for patients not just by addressing their symptoms, but by honoring their stories, understanding their lives, and offering comfort when no cure is possible. My experience in hospice care has shown me that medicine is not just about treatment — it is about presence, dignity, and compassion.
This work has deepened my awareness of life’s fragility and the sacred responsibility of caring for patients at their most vulnerable. I have learned that sometimes, the most meaningful thing I can offer is simply to be there: to listen, to sit quietly, or to share in laughter. Medicine, to me, is not just a career — it is a calling. It is the privilege of witnessing love, grief, strength, and resilience, and of supporting patients and their families in moments of profound significance. I know that as I move forward, I will carry the memory of KS and future patients who will have shared some aspects of their lives and stories with me. I will keep the testaments of Dr. Gawande from Being Mortal close to heart in my practice in fulfilling medicine’s ultimate purpose in preserving dignity and helping patients live meaningfully. My experiences with KS have taught me to approach each patient as a whole person, and to value the human connections that lie at the heart of medicine. I am committed to practicing with empathy, humility, and compassion — always remembering that the most meaningful care often happens in the quiet moments, when we simply choose to be present.