One of my most meaningful experiences during my time as a hospice volunteer was my relationship with a woman I\u2019ll refer to as “Mrs. L”. At the beginning of my involvement with her, our interactions were generally quiet and tentative. While I would read aloud to her occasionally, or simply hold her hand, I questioned if my presence really made a difference, and sometimes I even thought of these moments to be awkward and worried if she simply wanted me to leaver her alone. Over time, however, I began to realize the subtle ways in which “Mrs. L” communicated, such as a gentle pressure on my hand, a faint smile, or a brief moment of sustained eye contact. Over time I learned small things about her such as her love for birds and her dislike for chocolate. These small things allowed us to build a relationship and showed me that you do not need to say a lot of words to connect.<\/p>\n
“Mrs. L\u2019s” transition from being alive to dying taught me that care goes far beyond the medical treatment. The long process of dying revealed the very human experience of dying that should receive not only medical care, but dignity, patience, and compassion. I learned that even though a cure may no longer be available, there are still opportunities to give comfort and be present. This is consistent with a major theme from Being Mortal<\/em>: medicine is not solely concerned with extending the length of a person’s life, but also with enhancing the quality and meaning of the remaining time.<\/p>\n My work as a hospice volunteer has dramatically altered the way I think about patient care and my role in the delivery of that care. In the past, I viewed medicine as primarily an action based profession: diagnose, treat, solve. Working in hospice challenged my perception of what medicine is. I have come to understand that at times the most important thing a caregiver can offer is their presence, particularly in those moments that are uncertain and vulnerable. As a result of this realization, I am much more aware of the emotional aspects of care and more comfortable with a situation in which there is no clear resolution.<\/p>\n As a result of these changes, I have also had a better sense of my vocational calling. I now envision a physician not only as a doctor who battles against disease, but as a companion to patients throughout all phases of their lives, including death. My experience in hospice has shown me the importance of listening to the fears, values, and unspoken needs of the patients, while respecting their individuality, even in their last days. I believe this experience further solidifies my interest in pursuing medicine, with a focus on patient centered and compassionate care.<\/p>\n In addition to changing my perspective of clinical aspiration, this experience has impacted many aspects of my daily life. I have become much more reflective and thoughtful in how I interact with people, realizing that presence and empathy are critical in each of my everyday interactions. Witnessing the fragile nature of life has given me greater appreciation for time, relationships, and the significance of human interaction.<\/p>\n When I apply for medical school, this experience will represent more than just a volunteer experience. This experience has been a transformative experience that has fundamentally shifted my understanding of care. It has provided me with a model for interacting with patients, and seeing them not as a case to be solved, but rather as an individual with a story, values, and dignity. My time with “Mrs. L” will continue to serve as a reminder to me that even in the absence of a cure, there is always the opportunity to care.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" One of my most meaningful experiences during my time as a hospice volunteer was my relationship with a woman I\u2019ll refer to as “Mrs. L”. At the beginning of my involvement with her, our interactions were generally quiet and tentative. While I would read aloud to her occasionally, or simply hold her hand, I questioned … Continue reading “In the quiet we learn to connect”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[58],"school":[7],"program_year":[56],"class_list":["post-2679","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-hospice","tag-featured","school-princeton","program_year-56"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.athenainstitute.com\/ahp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2679","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.athenainstitute.com\/ahp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.athenainstitute.com\/ahp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.athenainstitute.com\/ahp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.athenainstitute.com\/ahp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2679"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.athenainstitute.com\/ahp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2679\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2808,"href":"https:\/\/www.athenainstitute.com\/ahp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2679\/revisions\/2808"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.athenainstitute.com\/ahp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2679"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.athenainstitute.com\/ahp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2679"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.athenainstitute.com\/ahp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2679"},{"taxonomy":"school","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.athenainstitute.com\/ahp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/school?post=2679"},{"taxonomy":"program_year","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.athenainstitute.com\/ahp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/program_year?post=2679"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}