I started volunteering in a hospice center, when I was seventeen, not really knowing what to expect. My legs trembled as I stepped into the hospice; all I could do was staring at the critically ill patients whose frail bodies bore testimony to their trauma. The sheer number of cases, their immense difficulty, and the great fear I felt of having to work in this new environment was overwhelming. I eventually overcame my initial fear and discomfort, and moved on to interact with the patients there. These did more than allow me to help the patients; is allowed them to help me by making my day brighter and my satisfaction greater.
One particularly notable patient who I had trouble clicking with was a terminally ill four year old boy named Rahul. I was flustered and unsure of how to react to the fact thatsomebody who at such a young age – an age where I used to play with toys and had no significant worries- could be going through more pain in a day then I had ever experienced in all my years. Any word I could have said felt insignificant and fake – I had no way of consoling the child. I avoided conversation and tried my best to not have to deal with such an awkward situation. However, I eventually had no
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I began to talk with him little by little, eventually managing to overcome my difficulties in knowing what to say and meeting him every day. On his bad days, he talked about his longing to go back home and back to school, I would feel frustrated, knowing that there was little I could do. On days he felt better, I was able to help prolong his happiness with jokes, books, and even simple conversations about our favorite movies and cricketers. As I talked about his favorite things, I realized that by treating Rahul like a normal person for even a short amount of time, I was able to help him in my own small way, by allowing himself to not focus on his problems for just a small moment of