Interview
For our interview we decided to meet with David Winkler, a local Las Vegas writer and veteran high school English teacher. David is approaching 73 years old, and has some strong opinions on death, finding meaning in life, and why we should savor every day as if it were our last. In his free time he volunteers at Nathan Adelson Hospice, and in the following tidbits from our interview details his experience and conversations with those that are nearing the end of their lives.
After telling you a bit more about our project, there are a few questions I would like to ask you concerning your thoughts about death and impermanence. I know that you volunteer with hospice and have shown me some of your poems, could you talk about some of the more emotional experiences you’ve had there?
I used to volunteer there quite a while ago, but then I became a teacher and my daughter was born the same year, so I couldn’t go there until recent years since I’m retired. But as for my experience, there’s all sorts of people that I meet. Just recently I was sitting next to a woman and she reached her hand out towards me as to hold my hand, but I had thought she wanted water. I got her some and handed it to her, but she pushed it away—she really just wanted to hold my hand. Moments like those remind you that some of these people don’t have anyone else. The amount of lonely elder people there is recognizable, but there are also quite a few that have family members who come in to visit them.
I know people who have had family members in hospice, and it’s never a happy thing to be told you’re going there. Do any of these people mention a fear of death or any regrets they have when they talk to you?
Many--at least those who are alert--wish to talk about what's on their minds. This can vary from fear, apprehension about what's going to happen to them after they die, memories from long ago, and sometimes a string of words that makes no sense. Whatever they have to say, I listen. I've seen some volunteers stand at the patient's bedside. I always pull up a chair. It places me more on their level, plus I can hear better.
How has your experience with death and being around people who are nearing it affected the relationships in your life?
My experience at hospice has served to humble me in the presence of people nearing their end. Humility is a commodity that can neither be faked nor duplicated. It must come from the heart. I fully believe our society as a whole could use a heavy dose of humility at present. I'm not religious, but I am spiritual, and knowing we're all going to die, my approach to all people is generally one of kindness, thoughtfulness, and compassion. I think one of the most rewarding skills any human being can possess is listening attentively to others. When I enter a patient's room, the moment belongs to them, not to me. It's never about me; it's always about them.
How has your experience with death and being around people who are nearing it affected the relationships in your life?
My experience at hospice has served to humble me in the presence of people nearing their end. Humility is a commodity that can neither be faked nor duplicated. It must come from the heart. I fully believe our society as a whole could use a heavy dose of humility at present. I'm not religious, but I am spiritual, and knowing we're all going to die, my approach to all people is generally one of kindness, thoughtfulness, and compassion. I think one of the most rewarding skills any human being can possess is listening attentively to others. When I enter a patient's room, the moment belongs to them, not to me. It's never about me; it's always about them.
From knowing you personally, I know you dealt with a bout of cancer a few years ago. In what ways did that experience affect you?
Yeah, I had a shocking diagnosis of colon cancer three years ago, another humbling event. But after surgery, aggressive radiation treatments, and chemotherapy sessions, I seem to be fine. The way I look at it, most people in my age range have some nagging condition they have to deal with. I count myself fortunate, and I celebrate my life every day when I wake up, because one day I will not.
Did you find that your relationship with yourself, wife, daughter, friends…changed at all? With either hospice or your experience with cancer?
The hospice experience has not radically changed my relations with friends or family. First of all, I've seen death in its various forms all my life, some of it violent---in childhood, in the army, as a counselor to juvenile delinquents, in my previous role as a hospice volunteer, and even as a teacher. I delivered four eulogies for students during my teaching career. I believe that those of us who gravitate toward this kind of work already have that sensibility, which comes equipped with empathy and benevolence, and perhaps the quality of mercy. This may sound a bit morbid, but I don't mean it to--I sometimes observe a person who is very close to the end and I imagine myself in their bed, dying. Because eventually that's where I will be; that's where my wife and daughter will be; that's where we'll all be. It's not at all depressing in my view. It's a reason to become more loving and celebratory while we're here: simple as that. Please don't infer from this that I think of myself as some sort of angelic presence; to countervail such an absurd notion, I assure you that in my lifetime I have cheated, stolen, fornicated, lied, and spent time in jail, plus other stuff I can't remember right now. Humans are complex creatures; we are houses with multiple rooms filled with multiple furnishings. If it were not so, the poets would have nothing to write about.