Hi reader,
An infrequent but very rewarding aspect of my hospice volunteer role is my involvement in orientation for new volunteers. Orientation happens in two parts. First, there are initial training sessions with a group of new volunteers. Then, new volunteers join experienced volunteers for individual mentoring during hospice shifts (we call this ‘shadowing’).
I’ve participated in both parts of orientation and my teaching process tends to be similar no matter what the setting. First, I share my history as a volunteer and talk about some of my experiences. Then, I briefly describe some of the specific details about volunteer responsibilities in the hospice house. Finally, I make it clear that I’m willing to answer any questions.
The final part leads into my favorite aspect of the training role. I enjoy giving a good response to an honest, open question from someone who only wants to know the answer. As an experienced volunteer, I consider answering honest questions a very important responsibility. It allows me the chance to give back to a group that has been very good to me over the past couple of years by helping the team bring new members up to speed as quickly as possible.
However, I also enjoy this aspect of the role for purely selfish reasons. I often find that the process of giving a thoughtful response to an honest question is a great learning opportunity for me. As I consider the question and try to determine the right response, I open up unexpected places within me and find myself understanding a little more about what I’ve learned in my time as a volunteer (1).
The best such question I’ve ever been asked came from a new volunteer who was not sure if the role was the right fit. She asked me – how did I know I should volunteer? I had to think about that one for a short while. Finally, the answer came to me from within, out of nowhere – I knew I should volunteer because I was already doing it.
I explained my answer by pointing out how much of what I did as a volunteer – relating across differences, connecting with strangers, exhibiting endless patience, validating feelings, rejecting assumptions, and so on – were all the same things I tried to do in my life outside of hospice (2). I knew I should come to hospice because the way I wanted to live was a perfect template for the way I would volunteer.
I cut my answer off at this point because I felt I’d answered the question. However, as I think it over now, I realize there is a little more to the point. I think a lot of people who drop out of the hospice volunteer role struggle simply because they are suddenly trying to do something in a hospice environment that they do not regularly try to do outside the hospice environment. A volunteer who does not try to support suffering friends or family in the relatively familiar environment outside of hospice is going to have a very difficult time learning to support strangers and staff in the unfamiliar hospice setting. In short, hospice challenges volunteers to be their very best selves at all times, whether they are on a shift or not. This is an impossible challenge to meet for those who are not already trying to be their best self outside of hospice.
This understanding helps explain why my hospice volunteering is such a difficult idea for the people in my life to relate to. Society encourages us all to have many different versions of ourselves, to don many capes and wear many hats, so to speak. We have one persona for home and another for work. The rudeness we exhibit when behind the wheel or navigating public transit might be entirely unknown to those we interact with exclusively in work groups or living rooms.
There are valid and important reasons for all this compartmentalizing but I suspect our various situational personalities make identifying our best self a very challenging task. It certainly makes it difficult to be our best selves at all times because we are constantly switching from one self to another. How can we be at our best all the time if we aren’t always fully committed to being ourselves? It might be possible, I suppose, but I've learned over the past couple of years that it wouldn't work for me.
The ongoing fusion of self and volunteer has been one of the enriching results of the volunteer role. I’m finding now that after a couple of years as a volunteer, a lot of what I’ve learned at hospice is starting to influence how I live when I’m not on my shift. I think these days most people see the same me whether I’m in the hospice or not. That's just fine with me - the less I compartmentalize, the more time I'll have to work on becoming my best self.
Footnotes / Saturday afternoon
1. An honest question can only return an honest answer…
Another great example of how I learned from an honest question came during one of the first times I participated in a group training session. I had just finished explaining that sometimes the house could be very quiet and that it was possible to go an entire shift without interacting directly with anyone. A volunteer with a great understanding of herself then raised her hand. She explained to me that as a social person she would prefer a more active shift. What times did the house tend to have more reliable activity?
I had never thought about it before and considered all my experiences – even going as far back to when my mom was living in a hospice – before recommending midday Saturday. In the process of answering this question, I learned not just that I knew the answer but also that I’d avoided such shifts, had specifically offered my time before breakfast or in the evening, for reasons I needed to understand better if I was going to continue my growth as a volunteer.
2. And my nonconformity streak, I suppose…
The one thing I can’t quite figure out how to describe about hospice is its counter-cultural element. I didn’t consider signing up to volunteer as a counter-cultural act but the more I think about it, the more rebellious I feel for donating my time to a medical organization whose stated mission runs against the basic assumptions of the medical field.
