On Monday, I returned to the residence after being away for some time. Monday morning was the time of my first regular shift at hospice, and being there at the start of the week brought back wonderful memories of those early days with my “hospice buddy” Alex. She was the old-timer, having been in the residence all of 10 months by the time I started, and I felt as if I would never learn all the things she taught me as we worked together that first day. Even though I took copious notes (academics really can’t help ourselves, I’m afraid), still when I came back the next week I felt as if most of the things I’d learned had fallen out of my head. But Alex and my co-workers were so reassuring, reminding me that it wasn’t so much what I knew as how I was being that really mattered.
I felt a little nervous, as I passed through the big double doors into the residence this Monday. I knew I wouldn’t know a single one of the patients, and I worried I wouldn’t be able to keep all the details in my head (or even in the little notebook I scribble in). I wondered how many other changes had taken place while I had been away. Would I know the staff? Would I find my place? Yes, I’m an introvert AND I hate change!
I was greeted in the volunteer room by Karen, a volunteer who’d worked in home support before adding the residence to her volunteering activities. She made me feel right at home, commiserating when my name tag seemed to have gone missing (“Mine often seems to disappear,” she reassured me) and filling me in on the patients in the residence before we set to work.
I’ve written here before about the importance of having a beginner’s mind and on Monday that’s certainly what I had! I didn’t know a single solitary one of the 7 people staying in the residence. Though I scribbled down their names and pertinent details, I knew that even the information in the volunteer book might have become out of date during the night. And so I set about meeting each patient one by one for the first time, willing myself to be fully present to each new encounter. What struck me about this openness and presence was that each encounter seemed to go straight to my heart in an almost physical way. As I guided a straw to the mouth of an elderly man who could no longer eat and was parched from the winter dryness, I felt a huge tenderness for him. Briefly, I sat in the chair beside his bed, in case he wanted more water. I simply sat, knowing that there was likely nothing that I could “do” for him. I was hugely aware of how much in life I am still in “doing” mode – whether it is by action or words – despite my meditation practice and contemplation. I was reminded for the umpteenth time how important hospice is in reminding me of the importance of slowing down and being present in every moment. I have missed those reminders.
With only 7 patients, several of them with family members around them, our shift was unusually quiet. I was grateful for the time to catch up on memos and new policies, through reading the volunteer book and conversation with my colleague. It also gave me time to be fully aware of what I was experiencing – which no doubt helped me to catch myself before I could start to say something to a family member in an attempt to make a connection. (“Do they really need to know that?” I could hear a voice inside asking – urging me to tread slowly and not “over share” for my own sake.) [Lest anyone reading this worry that I “over share” routinely on my hospice shifts, I can assure you that I am very aware of the importance of boundaries, and have been acutely aware of the rare occasion when I’ve shared something with a family member that I realize needn’t have been said.]
When I left after my four-hour shift, I could still feel the presence of those patients I had met. Not in an overwhelming or holding on way, but in the way of feeling what I had encountered. I was grateful for the afternoon volunteer meeting where we had the opportunity to learn more about the patients and to talk about any challenges we were experiencing. Though I didn’t talk at the meeting (a rarity for me!), it was hugely helpful to have some of the things I had felt corroborated by the residence coordinator. For the thousandth time I had confirmed the fact that people’s lives are complicated. We all have stories that few people will know or understand. And the best thing we as hospice workers can do is to bring our compassionate, non-judging selves to the bedside.
I started this post with the intention of writing about caring for ourselves – but I think I’ll save that part for a later post. Except to say that the best thing we can do for ourselves, as hospice workers, is to bring that spirit of compassion and non-judging to our ourselves. This is not easy, this work we do, and it is transformative in so so many ways.
“The best thing we can do for ourselves, as hospice workers, is to bring that spirit of compassion and non-judging to our ourselves.” I like that.
Regarding your post, it’s interesting to read about the different environments (urban, rural, residential, institutional, etc.) in which we care for patients. Our experiences are so different, yet so alike.
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Thanks, Frances. Not always easy to find that compassion for ourselves and so so important.
K
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Katherine, you have what every volunteer manager is looking for in a volunteer; the deep realization that patients and families will lead us in the direction they need us to go. This is a rare gift, as we all have needs too and we all would love to step in and share but you clearly see your role and learn from it. This is the best of the hospice world, so thanks for such poignant posts. I will share this every volunteer I know.
-Meridian
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Thank you so much for your beautiful email. You can’t imagine how much it meant to me. I so appreciate this space and opportunity to talk with people who understand why we are devoted to the work that we do. I’m going to send your blog on to some of the volunteer coordinators I’ve met during my travels during the past few months to the amazing hospices in Ontario.
Thank you for this gift,
Katherine
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Reblogged this on Hospice Volunteering and commented:
I’m reblogging this post from almost three years ago because it speaks so much to what I have been thinking (and ruminating) about in the past month or so. Having just returned to the hospice after three weeks away, the thoughts and feelings in this blog post were very much the ones I felt on my shift this week.
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