The pre-med hospice volunteer program has reduced and reshaped my fear of death. Coming into the program, I knew that my fear of death was irrational since it is inevitable. I was scared nonetheless because it is unknown. My religion, Christianity, does offer some comfort (as most religions do) but it does not completely eliminate my irrational fear. However, the pre-med hospice volunteer program has provided another source of comfort outside of my religion through the content learned and the patient relationships formed.
I acquired a substantial amount of content with regards to death through the TED talks, articles, interviews, and poems. These sources have helped me realize that I should focus more on the preparation of one’s death than the actual death. By defining what a “good death” is to the individual through preparation, one’s own death becomes a little less scary. Preparation can come in the form of reconciling with family, donating one’s wealth, occupying one’s own home rather than a hospital bed, etc. By accepting and preparing for a “good death”, one can avoid outlasting one’s welcome. In western medicine, there is a tendency for patients to outlast their welcome because physicians feel the need to find the cure to every diagnosis. However, there needs to be a shift from perceiving death as a disease and more as a right of passage for humanity. In doing so, one can avoid outlasting one’s welcome.
One hospice patient relationship in particular demonstrated the fragility of human life and the importance of human relationships. Prior to winter break, I visited a patient for the first time. When I, alongside the program coordinator and fellow volunteer, entered this patient’s room, he greeted us with a wide smile and invited us to make ourselves comfortable in his space. Once the preliminary introductions were completed, the patient did not hesitate to delve into stories of his past. One story was incited by our inquiry about a wedding photo displayed on a side table. This story is riddled with details about the patient’s youth as trouble maker and a beautiful and popular woman from an intimidating family. By the end of the story, we all expressed our awe of his dramatic retelling of how he met his wife. However, the patient informs us that the story was not about his wife but the woman he was involved with previously. This clarification sent us into a fit of laughter due to the unexpected twist to the story. It also solidified the patient’s reputation as a casanova and trouble maker. The patient continued to entertain us by sharing his secret stash of candy, which we reprimanded him about, and describing his daily routine with his current girlfriend. By the end of the visit, I was anticipating another visit in the new year, returning from my winter break. However, a week later we received news that the patient had passed away.
After receiving the news, I immediately thought back to my first visit with the patient. Though I only met him once, his comedic stories and lively retellings are still fresh in my memory. His death demonstrated the fragility of human life because he passed away a little more than a week after I first met him, proving that no one is guaranteed tomorrow. His death also demonstrated the importance of human relationships. Though the patient’s physical presence in this world is gone, his essence remains in the form of memories. If this holds true for me, as someone who had one meaningful interaction with the patient, then this holds especially true for the patient’s close friends and family.