On my first day volunteering with the Pitt Hospice program, I wasn’t expecting to be staring blankly at white walls as my “Hello!” echoed back to me. I was in the room with Ben, my first dementia patient, and within 30 minutes of awkward, fragmented conversation, my romanticized expectations and hopes for immediate connection and deep conversation had vaporized. My discomfort at my failures to engage in conversation with Ben made it tempting to find another patient who could provide me with the meaningful conversation that I was looking for. Yet, I challenged myself to stay with Ben, and over the next few months, I learned to meet him where he was.
Towards the end of the fall semester, I had grown close to Ben and his family. Through a series of conversations with Ben’s wife and brother, I learned about their family, Ben’s personality, his adventurous past, his love of sports, and eventually, their emotional burdens caring for him. However, I grew close to Ben not through verbal communication, but rather through physical and emotional presence and patience. Ben would have good days and bad days. On the good days, I would toss his favorite green ball and chat with him about his memories playing football. On the bad days, I would sit next to him for hours, comforting him when he grew restless, and sometimes, even having emotional conversations about how he felt about his dementia.
By caring for Ben and other patients, I have been challenged in many ways that have helped me to develop a stronger sense of self-awareness, to learn what being “present” means, and to develop effective communication skills verbally, emotionally, and physically. I have also learned the strength in vulnerability, and that in order to be a good volunteer, and a good future physician, I need to take care of myself in order to be able to care for patients well.
I have especially been challenged in my understanding of death through this program. The idea of death first shocked me when I came back to visit Ben after winter break. I almost couldn’t believe how much Ben had declined. The man I had been able to interact with before now barely recognizes me. I ran away from death, unable to interact much with Ben afterwards due to my fear of losing him. It wasn’t until I cared for another patient on my new floor whose disease progressed more rapidly and aggressively than Ben’s had that I realized I’d have to face the reality of death.
Although I am still working on being more comfortable with death, I have come to better understand that death is inevitable, and it is a part of the natural cycle of human life that makes it possible for our lives to be filled with so much meaning and beauty. This insight has further allowed me to reflect on medicine, and how medicine should better focus on making comfortable, healthy, and peaceful human lives as its goal instead of fighting death at all costs.
In the future, I hope to further my understanding of medicine, as well as develop meaningful relationships with patients as I had the wonderful opportunity to do so in this program. This program has been extremely valuable in my process of preparing for medical school, and undoubtedly, I will never forget its impact in developing me as a future health care provider.