On a cold winter morning, I am visiting my hospice patient’s home, far away from the hustle of downtown Austin that I’m used to. I sit at the dining table talking to the patient’s wife, whom I’ll call Sarah, as she sips her cup of morning coffee, and we start to chat about the places we have called home. During our conversation, I cannot help but look around at the family photos that adorn the china cabinet, some of which were old and withered from a long career of keeping cherished memories.
There was a lot of history in that home, and I learned later that the house had been built by the family more than thirty years ago, at a time when both Sarah and her husband Paul (name changed) led busy lives as leaders of their church. While Paul traveled the country preaching to large audiences, Sarah tagged along and penned numerous books about her faith. As the years wore on, Paul began to develop the terribly progressive symptoms of Alzheimer’s disease, and the couple retired to a mundane life in the Austin suburbs.
Sarah admits that staying in one place and adapting to her new life was a challenge. I ask her about the changes she endured once Paul was diagnosed, which included dealing with random strangers coming into the house to check on things and the constant stream of medical supplies being hauled in through the front door. She stops for a second to think and slowly turns to me.
“I’ve learned to be happy where I am,” she says, taking another sip of coffee.
I have seen this in many of the patient families that I have met through hospice. In a time of great pain and grief, they learn to ignore for a moment the inevitability of a terminal illness. To cope, families choose to live solely in the present, a choice that often empowers them to share happy moments without being plagued by a future they cannot control.
I think we can learn from this perspective. The pre-med culture is often portrayed as a ruthless climb to the top, and this leads to a culture of constantly worrying about what the future holds. For now, the stress is centered around MCATs and admissions, but the cycle continues with the Step exams, residencies, fellowships and so on. To put it bluntly, our society that rewards high achievement above all else forces us to forget cherishing the present. I’m quite guilty of this—I realize that I count down the days to the MCAT or the next medical school interview without enjoying the smaller victories and memories of the day-to-day. The solution to this, I think, is the focus on the little things that define the now.
Hospice has taught me that the present is the most important thing in the world. Whenever I visited Sarah’s home, all the stress of future exams melted away, and I forced myself to focus solely on my conversation with her and her family. Even a short conversation could mean the world for someone who is greeted daily by the rehearsed niceties of medical professional, and even a short story could change my perspective. The truth is that you never know how a small thing you do can change a person’s life or how a small thing could change yours. A small “thank you” or a smile can go quite the distance.
As we bring in the new year, I hope that we can all take a break from the anxiety-inducing climb towards the future and enjoy the gifts of the present. Enjoy the little moments with family and friends and don’t forget to live in the present every once in a while. The future can wait for now.