In one door, a life was given while in another door, a life was lost. Down one corridor, a first time mom is wheeled to the emergency room while down another corridor, a girl is biting her nails pacing back and forth in front of an operation room. It’s crazy how a hospital can be such a happy and sad place at the same time.

It was my first day as a volunteer at St. Joseph’s Hospital in Phoenix, and I had no idea what to expect.

My job was to escort patients from one part of the hospital to another. Easy right? But I was worried that the patients would be the typical hospital patients that you see in movies. You know, the obnoxious, grumpy, judgemental ones.

I was told to make conversation with the patients I worked with to make them feel comfortable. And to avoid awkward silences in the elevators.

Surprisingly, all the patients I encountered were all nice and to my benefit, talkative. However, there was one patient, in particular, that stood out to me.

Mr. Jacobs.
Mr. Jacobs was like any other hospital patient, but it was what he told me that got me.

“You remind me of my granddaughter,” he speculated as I wheeled him down the hall.

He began to tell me about his granddaughter, but we somehow ended up talking about ice cream. He told me about his favorite ice cream flavor, his hobbies, and his favorite game as a kid.

I laughed when he began to talk about his first pet, which was a pig, and how he used to feed it bacon just for fun.

He asked me about school and the question that every adult has to ask at least once in their life: “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

I looked around anxiously when he asked me this as if the answer to his question was on one of the hospital’s walls.

“A doctor,” I responded. Although I had no intention of being a doctor at the time, I thought it was the most appropriate answer since I was volunteering at a hospital after all.

His glassy eyes twinkled when I said that.

“I used to be a doctor,” he recalled. “It’s not easy,” he continued “but it is very satisfying helping those who can’t help themselves.”

He smiled up at me then looking down at his hands.
“My granddaughter wanted to be a doctor as well,” he mentioned.

I was going to ask why he said ‘wanted’ when his nurse materialize out of nowhere.

“I know you would be an amazing doctor,” he said as the nurse pushed him away.

I stood there dumbfounded with a million questions rushing through my mind. Was he just saying that to be nice? Or was he saying that because he wanted me to be the doctor his granddaughter would have been?

All I knew what that from that day forward I finally understood why people loved to volunteer so much.

Honestly, as a kid, I never understood the point of volunteering. I never knew how life changing it could be. I never knew how much a simple comment could make my day. I never knew how gratifying it feels to help others. And most of all, I never knew how much someone can remind me of someone else.

Because little did Mr. Jacobs know that he reminded me of my grandfather.