I knew long ago that I wanted to pursue a career in medicine, but my initial understanding of what such a career would entail was, in retrospect, incredibly lacking. While I had a basic understanding of what end-of-life care might involve in the practical sense, I did not know what it would look like. For many patients, a poor diagnosis might evoke complex emotions of sadness, anger, joy, or peace. The same can be said of a patients’ family as they begin to process what life may look like without their loved one. As a Hospice volunteer, I had the immense privilege to observe these occurrences and form meaningful connections with my patients. These experiences have played a fundamental role in furthering my understanding of medicine past a purely scientific lens; rather, I have grown to deeply cherish and appreciate the humanistic side of medicine.
In particular, I learned quite a bit from my patient ‘SF.’ Our meetings were often filled with laughter and the exchange of stories, and I came to greatly treasure the retrospective moments we shared with one another. The topics we discussed made me rethink my perspective on topics like family, youth, and ambition, and I grew to find more joy in the simpler moments of life. I began to realize how much I had taken for granted in my life, like going on a walk outside or meeting a friend for lunch, because these were things that ‘SF’ wished to do but could not. Through this realization, I grew to deeply sympathize and connect with ‘SF.’ I also grew to better appreciate the value of self-reliance and vulnerability.
Although I knew in advance that my patients’ health would decline over the course of my volunteer work, I wasn’t prepared for the speed with which their conditions worsened. I can recall developing a meaningful relationship with another of my patients, ‘SG,’ over several weeks and getting to know her quite well. When I later visited, she struggled to entertain further conversation until she was unable to converse at all. This was particularly challenging to process, as the person I was familiar with was slowly beginning to fade away. During this time, however, I discovered that my physical presence beside my patient was just as important as our conversations had been. It meant a great deal to my patient and her family that I was able to visit, and our interactions helped to relieve the stress associated with my patient’s condition.
Likewise, I also found that my patient and I had established a new, quieter sort of comfort that arose from occupying the same space, whether it be watching a movie together or enjoying the sunshine outside the window. We could simply enjoy sitting together and being at peace, which was distinct from my prior visits but just as meaningful. I found that a ‘relationship’ is not constituted by conversation alone. Rather, it involves trust, respect, and understanding. In this way, my volunteer experience has drawn my attention to the way in which seemingly small, insignificant acts can make a sizable difference for my patients and their families. Through Hospice, I have solidified my desire to become a doctor and formed many memories that I will surely cherish for years to come. And as I apply to medical schools in the future, it will not be difficult to express why the practice of medicine is so special.