Day 14

There are days that keep you smiling for hours after leaving. Today was one of those days. I haven't been feeling too well due to stress and being fairly ill, but I managed to forget it all and have a wonderful time with the individuals in the hospital. I felt like I was of service to people, and that is entirely accomplishing my purpose there.

I have bonded more with Shirley than anybody else at the hospital. Speaking with her is a struggle sometimes, given that her medication fluctuates her mood and ability to interact, but I have managed to have great, uplifting conversations with her. It's disheartening to see her usual smile clouded by a face of over-medicated, blank apathy, and each time I see her, I hope to see her, and not simply an image of her.

Today, however, I noticed she was exhibiting neither a smile nor an expressionless face. She looked sad. I convinced her to get up and shoot some hoops with me, and she expressed rather quickly that she did not feel like herself lately, due to the psychotropic drugs she is taking. She asked me if I would listen to something she wanted to talk to me about, and we sat down and discussed what was making her sad.

After a deep discussion, I could see her mood had been lifted. I felt... therapeutic, in a sense, and did whatever was in my power to bring her to a better state of mind. The serious discussion transitioned into chit-chatting, and soon she decided she'd like to join the ongoing volleyball game. She left me with a smile on her face, and I can't describe how that made me feel.

As she left, Justin took a volleyball break in a seat nearby. Justin has only been at the hospital for a few months. We exchanged hellos, and I could sense he was deciding whether to speak or not. Finally, he began: "Every week, I'm given a taste of freedom when I'm allowed to go out, and it just reminds me more of how much I want to escape this place. I just want to get out. The world outside is so much better."

A moment passed in silence as I took in the disclosure that just took place, and planned what I would say. I couldn't imagine how he must be feeling. "Well Justin," I began, surprising myself, "you seem to have the advantage of appreciating the world outside, knowing what gifts lie out there. That means when you're discharged, you'll never take its beauty for granted, and you'll do everything in your power to not have to return. Is that right?" He paused, staring off. I waited nervously, hoping I hadn't thrown some cliched remark he's heard a million times at him. Finally, he smiled and nodded his head in understanding. "Yeah, you're actually right. Thanks for reminding me. I'll never do what I did to get in here in the first place." He returned to the volleyball game, seemingly more energetic.

These two exchanges may seem very minuscule, but they are world-shattering to me. I see very little disclosure and proactive discussion going on during the outside group, and to acknowledge that I am seen as trustworthy enough to have these sorts of talks with people is so humbling. I came to the hospital with goals of being involved, even though my range is very limited as a volunteer. I quickly learned that volunteers, especially interns fulfilling credit at universities, do not care to do much or have many interaction with patients, and I did not want this for myself. I feel there is a little confusion and surprise on the part of the permanent staff because they see that I am invested in the people at the hospital. I even feel a little hostility from less friendlier staff because of it. Regardless, my goals here are beginning to be realized, and I am happy for it.

Note: I have to supplement this post by stating that I realize my limited power and knowledge as a volunteer. I do not have proper training to be conducting therapy with anybody, so I try and keep my responses as safe as possible. Sometimes, however, all somebody needs is unconditional positive regard and active listening to feel a little better, and I will try to carry this along in my everyday life.