One of the most meaningful relationships I formed during my hospice volunteering was with a patient I will call “Mrs. Thompson.” When I first started visiting patients, I was not sure what my role would be. I did not want to bother patients and was scared that my presence was a source of annoyance instead of help. I was also not there to provide medical care and at first I was worried that I would not know how to interact in a way that actually felt helpful. Over time, however, I realized that the most important part of the experience was to just build a relationship and meet patients, even if I was not able to provide direct medical care.
When I visited “Mrs. Thompson,” I always started the conversation by asking her what she wanted to do that day. Sometimes people had the assumption that the volunteers should come prepared with activities and different fun things to do. However, I quickly learned that letting patients guide the interaction was much more meaningful. Sometimes, that meant talking while other days it meant just sitting together and talking. One of the first times we really connected was when we started talking about the jobs we had both had in our lives. She told me about working as a lawyer when she was younger and the college she went to. She told me how she ended up not having any children because she valued her independence and wanted to spend years traveling instead of caring for a family. She laughed while she reminisced about the strange things she and her college roommate would do. Listening to these stories reminded me that patients carry their identities which often become invisible once illness enters the picture.
Some of our visits also became creative. One afternoon, I ended up showing her how to make paper fortune tellers. At first, it was something I did just to pass the time but I felt happy when I saw that she was genuinely invested and was not just trying to make one to please me. We wrote predictions inside and took turns asking one another the questions while opening and closing the paper lids. Moments like these reminded me that even in serious healthcare settings, there was still room for joy.
Occasionally, we would get to even more personal topics such as about my own life. She asked me why I ended up at Princeton and if I liked the school. I told her about the decision process and how I wanted to be somewhere that pushed me academically while also allowing me to grow as a person. She seemed genuinely excited hearing about it and told me how important education had always been to her family. These conversations helped our relationship feel more mutual. Even though I had come in thinking that I was there to support her, I realized that she was also offering me perspective and encouragement in my own life. Talking about her past experiences made me appreciate how much history each patient carries with them.
Watching the Being Moral documentary helped me reflect on experiences like this. The film emphasizes that good care at the end of life is not only about medical treatment but about preserving dignity, autonomy, and a sense of identity. My time with “Mrs. Thompson” showed me how important those ideas are in practice. This experience has shaped how I think about medicine. Before volunteering I imagined healthcare in terms of diagnosing problems and providing treatments but hospice showed me that care also involves listening deeply, creating space for people to share their stories, and recognizing a person beyond their illness. Experiences like this are why programs like hospice volunteering are so valuable for future physicians. They teach you that medicine is not only about clinical knowledge, but also about understanding patients as people with histories, values, and identities that continue to matter even during illness. My time with “Mrs. Thompson” reminded me that meaningful care often begins with something simple: taking the time to listen and allowing patients to feel seen and respected.