Perhaps the most meaningful relationship I have had with a hospice patient was with a woman who I will call Rebecca, a name I have borrowed from a wooden sculpture she created. From the first day I met her, I could tell that Rebecca was a free-spirit. For most of her life, she created beautiful pieces of art. Many of these pieces she has hung or placed in her room. Although she doesn’t create art anymore, I struggle with writing whether she “is” or “was” an artist, because her personality is still one that embodies that of an artist. There is something about her that has made me feel inspired and excited, yet at ease.
I wonder what Rebecca was like as a mom. I imagine that she encouraged her children to embrace creativity and use their imaginations instead of going with the “status quo.” I believe this because, mixed in with her own artwork, was her daughter’s work as well. I imagine that Rebecca has fostered a certain kind of creativity and imagination in all who surrounded her throughout her life.
Every week during our visits, we would hit a quiet point in our conversation while I struggled to find something to talk about. So I would pull out a booklet with pictures of cats that I carried with me, and Rebecca would melt as she flipped through the pages joyously. She would tell me the same stories about the cats every time. I’d ask her, “What did they look like?” She never failed to reply, “Oh you know, regular. Just regular.” Although I’ll never know what Rebecca’s cats really looked like, I do know how meaningful the ability to share her experiences and memories was for her. During our last visit right before I had to go, she grabbed my hand, thanked me, and told me that our visits together meant a lot to her.
Despite all of our wonderful conversations, Rebecca struggled to talk about death. I think that sharing our life stories has given Rebecca a certain sense of peace through this process, especially over recent weeks as I have begun to see her memory and sense of place and time diminish. This program has been extremely valuable because I have learned firsthand just how difficult it is for people to talk about death. Before, I always assumed that elderly people had an easier time talking and thinking about death. However, my hospice visits have proved that belief to be incorrect. It is just as difficult for hospice patients to talk about death as it is for anyone else.
I have always wanted to be a doctor and I plan on applying to medical school next year. After participating in this program, I am more sure now than ever that I definitely want to work in family medicine. This way, I can work with patients across their lifespan, even until the end. On my medical school applications, I plan to describe how this program has taught me skills for discussing death with patients who are facing a potentially terminal illness. I believe that being a doctor who can openly and honestly communicate about death will be extremely beneficial for my future patients because it will provide them with more comfort during an extremely scary point in their lives. Based on several readings we have done as a part of this program, I have learned that having access to palliative care and having a doctor who understands that longer survival isn’t the only thing patients want are two very important factors in making a terminal patient more comfortable—even at peace—as they approach the end of their life.