The certainty of death is as undeniable as the certainty of the sun rising every morning. Riddled with deep emotions of sadness, sorrow, and devastation, death has always been an integral part of our existence: every walking and breathing being must succumb to the certainty of death. This just, finite reality of being is dampened by our everyday chase of titles, pride, and wealth. Those who become aware of the finity of the aforementioned wants are blessed to realize the importance of the needs, the things that live beyond our death: love, compassion, knowledge, and respect to the limited time we spend on this earth. Many search for those answers in philosophy, religion, or a simple conversation with those who have experienced the true beauty of existence.
We should not face death with fear, panic, and anxiety, but with the same contentedness as reaching the closing chapter of a long novel we have written. Are we not the authors who read the works of those who have gone, assimilate knowledge, and write a life from the ink of time on sheets provided to us by the promise of a newly risen sun?
Moving away from home and being thrown into the fast-paced routine of a new life has left me with no time to stop and reflect on the finity of life and its chameleon-like nature, switching colors to adapt to man’s reality. I had little time to sit down and read, assimilate, and write something that was not that of a clinical, pedantic nature. I slowly became aware of the regression of my emotional expression, the thing I prided myself in, the thing that made me human. I naturally became angry with the promised satisfaction that learning medicine would provide me. With the fading of my emotional integrity I found myself feeding the vacuum it left with hours of meaningless activities where hours chased hours into an abyss of uncertainty. Giving up, I thought that this was part of “The Process” of growing up, where we start losing our emotional edge, the ability to connect to others, feel, induce feeling in others and make them change their perspective in life. I started searching and all I could find were conversations about politics, how many lectures did my lunch partner finish last night, and various topics where pride knitted every motive behind their words.
Realizing that the effort of discussing other topics was sterile, I chose the thing that would help me awake my emotions from their long slumber: an elective that cared about how dying people faced the end of their lives. Maybe it was a coincidence or a saving grace, joining the Irish Hospice Foundation elective was a reminder that the true beauty of life is servitude and showing compassion to others. Simply put, the ethos of the foundation has reminded me that I have chosen to live my life in the service of others, and truly, they were the true core of medicine: compassion, care, and easing the transition into death, for both the dying and their family members. The services of the IHF is nothing but the manifestation of our humanity, our humility after a life of pride and stride, and for that, I find solace in supporting their cause.
Another thing worth mentioning is how joining the IHF elective coincided with the death of a fellow RCSI student. Their death resonated with me on a great level because of the commonalities we share, even though I have never seen her on campus or shared a few words with her. Her death made me stop and think about how easy it was to lose yourself in a degree or any other goal that we set for ourself. She reminded me that I should not be totally consumed by the things I set myself to achieve, but more importantly, stop, think, and allow myself to fall and rise again and stop expecting perfection and success at all times.
May my words reach those who have felt, stopped feeling, wish to regain a sense of presence, and escape the debilitating sense of detachment from life. To those who are cognizant of death, and live a life not in fear of the certain, but enjoying the uncertain.
– Faisal Al-Abdulhadi, 15/2/2020