During the month of April, I spent two Saturdays volunteering at a Community Kitchen program in downtown Columbus. My incentive for volunteering here was to help spread the word of an organization I was involved in, Ohio Health Aid, around the community. Some organization members and I wore our club t-shirts in the hope that community members would notice us and perhaps come to our health screenings. However, I soon began to realize that this program will probably have more of an impact on me than I had previously thought.

The two Saturdays I worked, I was involved with a variety of chores around the kitchen. I would cut cucumbers, butter sandwiches, clean the floors, heat up buns, and, of course, serve the food. There was an intense pressure to get all the food made by breakfast and lunch time, and I became attracted to the hustle in the kitchen. On top of that, everyone I worked with was wonderful. I met some fellow Ohio State undergraduates, along with some highly motivated high school students and other community service volunteers. They were all focused and determined to get as much food out at the highest quality possible. Additionally the two chefs I worked with seemed incredibly involved with the community; they knew almost everyone who stopped by. The altruistic atmosphere was very engaging, and it showed in the food we were able to provide to the residents. When it came time to serve them, the gratitude in their eyes made me understand the importance of what we were doing. In fact, not many people came the first week, but that actually made the head chef happy for an interesting reason:

“People usually get their paychecks now. And they are probably out there buying food that they can cook. And I don’t mind that because that means they’re independent and happy.”

And why wouldn’t they want to cook their own food? If they have the means to, they should want to feel in control of their own lives. However, they should also be comforted by the fact that we will always be there with food to fill them up. The fear of starving is still a present one in the United States, and if we can guarantee a free and satisfying meal, that would ease the pressure on everyone involved.

I found something special in Community Kitchen, a place where I was surrounded by selfless and hardworking volunteers willing to make a meaningful impact on the daily lives of neighborhood residents. I hope to come back sometime in the future.

As a part of ENCompass, I have had the opportunity to volunteer at local clinics and help them find resources in the Columbus area to improve their daily life. I haven’t been able to volunteer as much as I would like, but I think that with my new position at the Nationwide Children’s Hospital (or more specifically a clinic in Columbus) , I will finally be able to do an official consultation with a family.

I have volunteered for two weeks now, but I haven’t had a consultation yet. However, I have learned so much about the difficulties of helping inner city residents. One of the biggest lessons I learned was about the language barrier. The majority of patients in the clinic are Mexican immigrants and Somalian refugees, most of whom are unfamiliar with the English language. When we found this out on the first day, we realized we were in for an interesting day. We had interpreters on iPads who could help us out throughout the consultation process, where we find the resources the families need, but the main difficulty was informing the patients of what we do and where we are located if they wish to see us. We could not use the iPads because it cost money every time we called an interpreter. Additionally, the interpreters at the clinic were busy with their own jobs. We could not expect them to lay everything down to help us. So, what to do?

We started by translating all our flyers to the languages the Somalian and Spanish patients would speak. We had some professional help with this. Additionally, we made sure to be as simple and clear as we could when talking to the patients. We made sure to highlight key words that they would recognize, like “food” and “house”. This has certainly helped, but our group still has not had many consultations, so I think there are more to do. I think we could involve the translators at the clinic, just at certain time periods. Maybe we could ask them to help every 20 minutes? I don’t know, but at least I am thinking of solutions. If it doesn’t work, we can find another solution. Additionally, I think the patients are just wary of approaching us. They are definitely not familiar with the area, and especially in this social climate, they may be scared. After all, there is a significant language barrier, and I understand their caution in approaching something new. However, I am sure that in the coming months, as our presence at the clinic becomes more familiar, they will warm up to us and allow us to help them.

I have also become interested in learning Spanish again. I stopped in Junior year of High School, but I really want to learn it now. It not only is incredibly important given the multicultural society we live in now, it seems fun as well. I’m glad experiences like these are making me think outside my comfort zone and showing me new reasons to try different things.

I volunteered at the Stroll for Epilepsy, which was a very fun but eye-opening experience. As a pre-med student, I have heard about how “what you say” to a patient is the most important thing you do as a doctor. A large part of medical school interview processes is observing how you respond in difficult situations. I was not too worried about this because I am generally a fun and sympathetic person (at least I think I am), so I never thought I would turn into a cold and calculating doctor who only thinks of his patients as lab animals.

But after this experience, I realized that there is more to a situation than just sympathy. The pain and trauma some patients have to go through is so immense that what you say is more important than how you say it. Sure, the tone in your voice can be comforting or relaxing, but I found it hard to find the right sentences that were both reassuring and understanding, without sounding fake or accidentally offensive. The hardest part was not appearing as if I understood what they were going through, because I didn’t. I wanted to be their friend, but I didn’t want to seem obligatorily nice or, worse, naively condescending. There were so many things I needed to juggle when I was talking to them, and my question didn’t help. As these families of epilepsy patients walked around the mall, there were stations, such as the one I was at, where they could get a stamp if they answered a question we asked. My question was “Is it true that there is no cure for epilepsy?” I always found it brutal when all the kids would confidently answer “Yes!” for me to crush them and say “…Well, no…” And it always broke my heart when I heard a patient answer “Nope, trust me I would know.” And, honestly, I wasn’t sure what to say to them sometimes. Usually I just said “I’m so sorry,” which honestly might have been the best thing to say in hindsight.

This experience was very important for me because it taught me that talking to patients about their medical issues is very tricky because I don’t know what they’ve been through and the pain they have gone through. And it’s hard for me because I really want to help them or at least be there for them, but me being me I am not the smoothest person to talk to, especially in such a delicate situation. So this is something that I will definitely have to practice, and something I look forward to mastering. Thank you for the experience, it was a blast, and thank you to the families who came. Support is invaluable, and I am sure it means a lot to those who you walked for.