When I began my internship this semester with the Journeys Palliative Care Program, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I had spent a lot of time volunteering at Seneca Health Care Center, and it had a big piece of my heart. Part of me was afraid of making it somewhere that I “had” to be because I didn’t want it to lose its magic. Would the residents treat me differently because they saw me everyday? Would I like the staff? Would I still have that familiar feeling of being reunited with old friends when I walked through the door each time? I was afraid of ruining all of that for myself.
That was January. Now, five months later, my internship is finished and tomorrow I am heading back to that wonderful place I called “work” and starting the process of becoming a part-time employee. I could not have asked for a better internship placement.
I spent the last semester working with improving the quality of life for “end-of-life” patients. I understand that the majority of people who just read that sentence just had the brief thought of “Oh, gosh, that must have been so hard.” “I could never do that.” And you are all correct, it is hard, and it’s not for everyone. However, in my opinion, I think that I had the opportunity and honor of being in one of the most rewarding positions there is. The people I have met over the last few months, both residents and co-workers, have been the most outstanding group of individuals I could have ever asked to work with. And I can say with complete certainty that I am forever changed for the better because they were all in my life.
Working in an environment where tomorrow isn’t guaranteed teaches you how to put things in perspective very quickly. You learn to appreciate the little things, and not take anything for granted. So clichè right? I think because those quotes are thrown around so much, they have almost lost their meaning. We don’t think about serious situations for which those words actually may be true.
The residents that I personally worked closely with were not actively dying. Their health is not the best, and most have dementia, but they are stable. However, each day I was there, after I would visit for a little while, I would stand up and start to say goodbye. It would usually take me a few minutes to gather my things and actually get out the door, but before I left I would always stop to turn and say something meaningful. “Thanks for talking to me, I think you’re a pretty amazing person” or “I love you”, whatever was relevant to what we had been doing or discussing. Because the thing is, I wasn’t sure if I would ever have the chance to do so again. What if what I said was the last thing they were ever told?
And why is this the only place in my life that I stop and do this?
My goal in life has always been to make a difference, and being in a position where I could make someone’s day by playing cards with them, or staying and chatting with them because all of their family lives out of town, or even just by saying “I love you”, is an honor and a dream come true, not a job.
Nothing is guaranteed, tomorrow is never promised. And your last words to someone could be the last thing that they hear. So really, maybe we should all live like we’re working with the dying.
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