Through my training and firsthand experience as a hospice volunteer, I have a newfound perspective on life, death, and what patients really need in their last moments. There are many aspects of end-of-life care that I have learned about, but none resonate with me more than the idea of understanding death as inevitable and necessary to appreciate the meaning and beauty of life. As Atul Gawande said, the two unfixables in life are aging and death. I think understanding that allows one to cast away their fears about death, truly start the process of acceptance, and reflect on the beauty of life. I first understood all of this during my first visit as a volunteer, when I met Mr. Smith for the first and last time.
Since it was my first visit, my volunteer coordinator, Mary, came along to make sure it went smoothly. Mary had told me that Mr. Smith was a Navy veteran and had been declining the past few days and used to work at Keebler Cookies. When we entered his room he clearly had declined more than Mary had thought. His chest was terribly congested, his eyes were shut, and you could hear that he was having trouble breathing. I was completely taken aback at first and did not know how to communicate with someone in such a state. Mary took the lead and began talking to Mr. Smith and caressed his hand. She told Mr. Smith that I was there. I then introduced myself and mentioned that Mary had told me he was a Navy veteran. I brought over a picture of a young navy soldier that was across the desk and asked if it was him. Mr. Smith could not speak to us, but Mary and I felt that he could hear us, sense Mary’s hand on his, and respond in grunts. I talked about how I loved Keebler Cookies as a child. I then took out my phone and played ocean sounds to Mr. Smith as I thought such sounds would be soothing for a Navy veteran. Mary and I continued talking to him about his life and adventures and how we wish we could have seen him in action.
At first it felt strange to me that we were talking to someone in such a state as if they were participating in the conversation. And then I realized Mr. Smith was a part of the conversation! I felt that he could hear us, and feel us, and respond back in any way he could. Even though he was not talking to us, I knew he knew we were there and that he knew we were playing ocean sounds and talking about his life in the Navy. Through this experience, I come back to the understanding that death is inevitable. But, as we did with Mr. Smith, by reliving his Navy adventures in that room, I understood that death was necessary to appreciate the beauty of life.
After we left, Mary and I debriefed about the experience and she told me I did a great job for how tough this first visit was. She emailed me the next day to inform me that Mr. Smith had passed that night. At first I did not know how to feel, but after some thought, I realized that I felt like I had done something important and meaningful for Mr. Smith. I was glad that I was there for him in his last hours, I was glad I talked to him about Keebler Cookies and the Navy, and I was glad I played ocean sounds for him. I realized the importance hospice and how much companionship can mean to someone at the end of their life.
Hospice work has shown me that there is more to medicine than biochemistry, genetics, and surgery. There is a crucial human component that is as healing as any procedure or treatment. I also learned through this experience that death is inevitable, and we can use it as an opportunity to see the beauty and meaning of our lives.