The Second Service Learning Log

My second experience with Project Angel Heart was quite different than my initial experience. David, Jake and I volunteered to deliver meals on a Saturday shift to the terminally ill who were unable to provide for themselves. Already aware of the meticulous process through which these meals are prepared and packaged having participated in it myself, I was excited to witness the more interactive side of Project Angel Heart. Being a people person, the delivery part of the service project seemed like something I would find very gratifying. I figured that we would arrive at the warehouse, receive a bag of our meals and a map of our delivery route and then be sent on our way to deliver nutrition to the feeble. I, however, was quite incorrect. There are many aspects that I did not consider with this type of work especially in terms of liability and privacy. Upon our arrival, we checked in with the staff and were then given a yellow handout. On this paper were the restrictions for us as pertaining to "patient confidentiality". When my Dad's mother died, people would bring meals over to our house quite often. They would ring the doorbell, introduce themselves, ask me how I was and how my family was doing, and usually I would invite them into our house. The yellow sheet I received at Project Angel Heart told me that I was not allowed to enter the household of the meal recipient, not allowed to ask them how they were, not allowed to run errands for them or take them anywhere. After initially reading over it, I realized how specified our duties were. Even though I consider "how are you?" to be a polite and considerate way to start a conversation, asking the terminally ill how they are would obviously be quite inconsiderate. I realized that without them having told me that, I would have never given a second thought to how I greeted them when I went to the door. Shortly after we had finished being briefed on the protocols of the delivery process, the grunt work began. After a series of facts about the deliveries that were going out that day, I was once again amazed at the precision of the organization. I realize now that service groups like Project Angel Heart run with the same sort of stress and intensity that a business corporation would, it was just the sense of giving and the gratification of serving the community that kept the homely, informal atmosphere alive. Each volunteer was given his cart of food, a map, and specific client information on the people we were delivering to. How thorough they were once again astounded me.

The delivery process what somewhat painless, the houses were in relatively close proximity to each other and we did not have huge difficulties finding them. I was surprised however that this was not the personal interactive experience I had hoped for. I found myself apprehensive, an emotion I rarely experience due to my adventurous personality. I realized that even after reading the literature and discussing the different ways society views illness and those afflicted with them, I was still uncomfortable in the situation. For all of my affluence, never have I dealt with the terminally ill on a personal level. Not that handing someone a bag a food gives you a personal relationship with them, but when they answered the door I found myself thinking two completely different things. One was that I would like to return to my school where this sadness is not a presence, a childish feeling, but a though I had none the less. The second was that I wanted to enter the house, look at how they lived, how their lives differed from mine. I wanted to see how they live their days, how they interact with friends and loved ones, how they were dealing with their illness. I was curious of the medications they were required to take, the intensity of it all. When I was walking towards the door, I found that I was reviewing the things that I was not supposed to do in my head, reminding myself of my restrictions. Even with all that, I still almost instinctively started my conversation with "how are you?", but remembering that was taboo here I swallowed those words. "Hello", I greeted them as sweetly as possible with a smile to go with it. They simply took the bag from my hand, gave me a half smile, and shut the door without a word. My smile faded as I walked back towards the car.

It was only then that I realized my true position in the scheme of things. These people did not view me as their salvation or as the bearer of nutrition, they saw me for exactly what I was. A youth volunteer delivering meals for an organization. Though I was doing a good dead, this was something that they dealt with each week. A new face, a different volunteer. This was not an opportunity for human connection, I was restricted from doing anything but hand them their food with a verbal impersonal greeting attached. There was no possibility of having a personal relationship, we were prohibited from socializing, dating, running errands, or even being in each other's residences. Even though we were reaching out to the victims, there was a wall built for us to separate us from them. Even with the notion of doing community service, we served them from the other side of the wall, where the healthy reside. The world of terminal illness comes with an entirely new set of rules and etiquette that is hard to understand without experiencing it either personally or through someone close to you. The delivery portion of the service learning project made me feel like I was contributing to a greater good, but in terms of my individual self-interest I felt as though I didn't gain much more than a new insight.