Working as a hospice volunteer this year was an unconventional experience. As I struggled to recalibrate to online classes, and to a summer and many semesters alone at home, I spent a period of time leaving this line of work to the wayside. During this past summer, I decided to reach out to a program coordinator who was local to my area, and I’m so glad I did. Previously, I’d been mostly keeping up with the program by writing letters to residents near my usual program’s base. I enjoyed having this kind of tangible connection with patients, but it just wasn’t the same as in-person visits.
I didn’t realize how much I valued visits until I had come out of my first one since the pandemic, nearly half a year after my last. That gap made me realize how important reflective, interpersonal experiences are for personal growth. After months of viewing my premed path through the lens of the many STEM classes I’m taking, I saw how the hospice visit humanized my career trajectory, and humanized me.
Hospice volunteering is a form of exposure to the medical field that is sorely lacking in many premeds’ priorities and repertoires. Rather than procedures, pharmaceuticals, or doctors, this is a uniquely patient-centered experience. In particular, the chance to interact personally with an individual in the hands of the medical system is one of the only ways to truly decide, independently, what kind of medical professional you want to be. I’m not talking about specialty or vocation: this experience shows you what kind of relationship you want to form with your patients, and how you can apply your skills (both interpersonal and medical) to deepen your bonds while healing their body.
One of the patients who left a lasting impact on me this year was an older woman who had been in and out of hospice for a while when I met her. Every week when I came to visit, she was incredibly frail and tired. However, every time we met, we talked practically for hours. She is such a lovely person, and we were able to bond over shared loves for art and film. I could tell that she had been really lonely. Her sons were unable to visit because of covid, so she had not had casual, non-medical encounters for a very long time. I know I could never fill the gap left by family, but I could tell that we both cherished the visits. I made my last visit with her before coming back to campus for the Winter semester, and found the experience really melancholic. This goodbye is unlike the ones I had with family and friends, who I’d be seeing come summer time. This was likely the last time we’d see each other. That sense of time was what really made our visits, and particularly our last visit, special. During our time together, we weren’t concerned about any outside rat race or medical issues. Instead, we reflected on the important stuff – friends, family, what we wanted out of life. I’m grateful for the impact of this experience, sadness and all, and know that I will jump eagerly for my next chance to connect with patients in such a way again.