My time as a hospice volunteer has been incredibly influential and deeply impactful. When I was presented with this opportunity, I applied because I thought it would look good on my medical school applications. However, I quickly realized that I was gaining much more than that. Volunteering through Athena and Compassus taught me many life lessons that I will carry into my future career in medicine and will shape the doctor I hope to become.
I was fortunate enough to visit two patients during my program and saw them weekly for a few months. Each patient taught me different things. My first patient was chatty and enjoyed talking about his children and work experiences. He suffered from memory loss and frequently “dozed off” spontaneously before coming to, where he would pick up mid-sentence as if nothing had happened. I believe I got better at sitting and listening without trying to come up with something to say; I embraced the lulls between conversations and gave him time to share his stories. It was difficult watching his health worsen across our meetings, to the point where he fitfully slept during our last two visits. Even though I had only known him for a few months, hearing of his passing hurt more than I expected. I had come to look forward to our weekly sessions and missed the stories he would tell.
I quickly learned that my second patient preferred listening over talking. When he responded to a question, his answers often lacked coherence. However, when my partner and I discussed our days or shared stories, he seemed attentive, often smiling and laughing as he listened. He was ill after we returned from winter break and could no longer speak, and appeared unresponsive. He still smiled occasionally, though, which was incredibly impactful for me. Despite knowing his time was coming to an end, he still appeared to appreciate the small things, like us discussing silly things our friends had recently done or how our classes were going. Watching his health decline was no easier than watching my first patient. Upon his passing, I again felt as if I had lost a distant family member, rather than someone I had known for such a short time.
My time with Athena/Compassus has taught me so many things. First, it taught me the value of human life. I worked with two significantly different people, but both sought companionship in the face of death. Across my time with them, I learned to make the most of each hour-long session. Even if I was tired or did not want to be there, I gave them my full, undivided attention: my role was to provide comfort in such an uncertain time, which I tried to do to the best of my ability.
As I mentioned above, my first patient taught me to sit and listen better with nothing in mind. Ultimately, I got better at being observant and flexible in my approach to each meeting; I learned to interact with each patient in a way that suited them. I greatly appreciate my time in hospice for this, because it has shown me how unique each patient is and that there is no universal way to care for someone. This ties back to the value of a human life: as a medical provider, every patient deserves the best possible treatment, which cannot be delivered without tailoring care to each patient’s needs.
Most importantly, my time as a hospice volunteer strengthened my desire to be a doctor. Funnily enough, a motivational app on my phone delivered a fitting message as I write this essay: it reads, “Compassion is the path to healing.” Hospice showed me the impact of compassion and humility on someone’s life, which I hope to carry into my career.
I often look to my father, a physician, as my role model and inspiration. Whenever I’ve shadowed him, his coworkers and patients have gone out of their way to tell me how great he is and how impactful he is on their lives. Hospice gave me a glimpse into his life. Despite not providing actual care, watching my first patient get excited during a story, or my second patient smile after I said something funny, has been confirmation that I should keep working hard and pursue my goal of getting into medical school.
Reflecting on my time in hospice, I am reminded of the central message from Being Mortal: medicine should not only aim to extend life, but to preserve dignity and the things that make life meaningful. My patients taught me that even at the end of life, moments of connection, laughter, and companionship deeply matter. Hospice taught me that patients are so much more than cases of illness: they are people with stories and relationships, and they deserve respect. I hope to carry this lesson into my career in medicine: not only to care for my patients’ diseases, but also for their humanity.