The Power and Joy of Connections
As an Athena hospice volunteer, I have recently visited a few patients. Each has left me with beautiful memories I will never forget. However, due to their conditions or disposition, the process brought many obstacles and hurdles to each.
My first patient was unresponsive primarily for the first couple of visits except one day when he showed interest in some Troy Polamalu highlights and Steelers videos I showed him. Unfortunately, he passed away shortly after. I felt defeated that I could not create a connection sooner. However, I am glad I did make some enjoyment for him and some hope within myself that I could learn how to do this.
The second patient I visited was in a better condition and much more responsive. We talked about various things every visit while he put on “Price is Right” or a show about Alaska. However, his health quickly deteriorated, and it was one of the hardest things to witness week in and week out until he eventually passed away. I was glad I made a better connection with this patient, enacting many of the active listening skills we were trained upon. I had even more hope that I could become a more proficient hospice volunteer.
More recently, I started volunteering for a new center where I visit a couple of patients. However, I would like to focus the rest of this essay on one patient I still see. My first interaction with “James” is a core memory for me. When I opened the door and introduced myself, he perked up from his drowsy state with the biggest smile I had seen in a long time. I still remember his first words were, “See… I am a nice one!” He then showed me his “diction,” his excellent pronunciation, and his pride in being 94 years old and very functioning; I was also amazed at his condition.
“James” and I immediately hit things off—so much that I extended my usual hour-long visit to two hours, during which we talked about music and our unique cultural backgrounds. The first few weeks with “James” were just like this, filled with vibrant, diverse conversations. Unfortunately, “James” condition started to diminish quickly. He lost his hearing aids and teeth, and he began to become increasingly bedridden and irritable.
Instead of having the enjoyable conversations that we used to, “James” started to spend most of the time discussing his new difficulties, which was difficult for me to converse about. He mentioned his inability to use the bathroom and that he could only eat “souffle” now, which angered him. Again, the active listening tips came in great help, as I think venting helped “James” feel more at peace with the situation. The previous prompts that discussed the aging process and the decline of many independent actions helped connect with “James” about this. He has become more at peace with the new, difficult situation. With this, we have returned to more great conversations and comfortable silence while listening to his favorite jazz music. Hearing his graciousness at the end of each visit is also a pleasant reminder of the joy it is to help those when you can. It has strengthened my goals to become a physician in the future.
The past few months visiting “James” have been very transformative in my hope of becoming a physician and a general patient carer. While I have helped him through difficult transitions accompanied by his aging, he has also helped me learn how to better care for and connect with patients. His joyous charisma is something I wish to take even a fraction upon myself. Everyone should learn to have the kindness of “James.”