“Mom, I’m going to be a hospice volunteer next year.” I was met with worried eyes and a solemn face. “’Mira’, isn’t that going to be burdensome? I mean, you’ll have to deal with death.” Yes, but so does everyone. When I decided to become a hospice volunteer, I knew that it certainly wouldn’t be an easy task, but it was a journey I was willing to embark on. It was initially a rocky journey once I was assigned my first patient. During my first few visits, I was very soft-spoken and barely audible. I realized that my low voice was negatively affecting my conversations with ‘Anna’, so I made a conscious effort to enunciate and speak more clearly. Over time, ‘Anna’ warmed up to me as I made myself clear, engaged, and present for our visits. She always had a warm smile and excitedly said “Hi” when I came to visit. Her laughter was equally warm, but our conversations ran cold. We always circled back to the same topics because she seemed to be only comfortable discussing them. I came to learn that our limit in conversation topics is not an indicator of how meaningful my visits were; the goal of hospice was not having deep conversations, but simply conversing and providing company to my patients. ‘Anna’ eventually graduated from hospice and I felt privileged to know her for those 3 months I visited her.
I was assigned my next patient at the start of 2024. However, my patient passed after our first meeting. Her son happened to be present during this visit, and our subsequent interactions changed entirely how I viewed my patients. ‘Sally’’s son was filled with emotions and kept reminiscing about his childhood with his mother and siblings. Tears streamed down his face at times, and it was disheartening to know that these were not tears of joy. Interestingly, before this visit, we were assigned a prompt that required us to read a book and I chose “When Breath Becomes Air” by Paul Kalanithi. In his book, Dr. Kalanithi mentioned something eye-opening: it is important to be with patients during their pivotal moments, not at their pivotal moments. Thus, at that moment with ‘Sally’’s son, I knew that it was important to be with him and his mother by lending my ears to hear his childhood stories and utilizing my heart as a tool to empathize with his pain. Although I met ‘Sally’ and her son briefly, that interaction has made me view death in a more positive light. After this visit, I was assigned a new patient and she is an utter delight to be around. Although I know that I am in no capacity to heal her as a doctor would, I do find our conversations to be healing for her by prompting her to reminisce about her childhood or what life was like with her husband. These conversations I have with her remind me of why it is so important to be a hospice volunteer.
Death is like the closing paragraph of someone’s life story. It marks the end of their journey, but it’s also a moment to look back, cherish the memories with loved ones, and recognize the impact they’ve had. As a hospice volunteer, this perspective has become clearer to me through experiences with patients like ‘Anna’, ‘Sally’, and my current patient. Each interaction has strengthened my belief in the importance of companionship and empathy in end-of-life support.