I’m leaving the last visit with my patient before spring break. I’m holding her hand, as she requests during visits. Being partially blind and deaf, she likes to feel reassured by feeling someone else’s presence by her side. “Are you coming back?” she questions me. “Yes,” I responded, “I’ll be back in another two weeks”. I wish it could be next week. It pains me to see her so distraught when I have to leave.
Before entering the hospice volunteer program, I expected to learn how to communicate better with those in the end stages of their lives. However, I have learned that communication extends beyond simply having conversations with patients. Being bedbound, all my patient desired was to not be alone. During my first few visits, she was accompanied by her daughter and granddaughter. I had the pleasure of hearing stories about my patient’s life from her various family members, but wished I could hear more from my patient directly. The next few visits without her family present were rough. My patient often cried and asked for the time, calculating how long she had to wait until her daughter arrived. We often resorted to talking about her loving cat that she misses or her strong love for country music, but that only helped so much.
A few weeks ago, I walked into her room and saw a new face at her bedside. My patient calls this companion her “adopted sister,” who I will call “Betty.” “Betty” is another resident of the nursing home, who lives directly across the hall from my patient. Although they have only known each other for less than a month, they emphasize that their relationship is more like that of sisters. “Betty” spends all day by my patient’s bedside, holding her hand and telling her stories from her hometown. More recently, “Betty” has started stealing a little extra dessert at dinner to bring back to my patient’s room, since she is not given dessert on her dinner tray in her room. The way that these two women speak about how important their friendship is has brought tears to my eyes during my visits.
“Betty” and the hospice program has helped me learn the importance of social connection. Aspiring to be a future healthcare provider, I always believed my role would be to help patients get better. I would be the one providing them with diagnoses and treatments. While this is true, it is true in another way. The key to helping patients is to limit their feelings of loneliness. Humans evolved as a social species, relying on others for survival. It is no wonder that when we are isolated, we experience symptoms of depression. While I may not be able to extend someone’s life by providing them with a miraculous treatment, I can extend the enjoyability of their life by being by their side. Whether it’s holding their hand directly, as I did with my patient, or quietly sitting by their bedside while listening to music, as “Betty” does, a patient feels seen and cared for. I now understand that what you say to someone is not as important as how you make them feel. My goal as an aspiring healthcare provider is to help my patients find their “Betty,” as my hospice patient has found hers.