As I recently transitioned from my role as a Care Partner to that of a Clinical Keeper, I find myself reflecting deeply on the experiences and relationships that have shaped me over the past three years. This shift in role offers a moment to pause and honour the incredible people whose journeys I have had the privilege to witness, their courage, their stories, and the lessons they have gifted me.
Over those years at Alignd, I’ve witnessed the journeys of many facing some of life’s toughest challenges. Many were newly diagnosed with serious cancer, trying to make sense of what this meant, not just for their health, but for their families, their futures, and their very sense of self. Each person whose journey I witnessed taught me something invaluable. Their lives were rich with meaning, and the time I spent alongside them has shaped how I see the world and how I show up for others and myself.
In those first conversations, shortly after diagnosis, I often connected with patients trying desperately to hold on to normalcy. Many hesitated to engage with palliative care at such an early stage. They didn’t want to feel like they were giving up. We discussed their fears, questions, and what support might entail. And even amid uncertainty, they got up each day and carried on, going to work, parenting, making space for joy whenever they could.
I quickly learned that bearing witness is about gently being present, truly seeing and acknowledging someone’s experience without the need to fix, judge, or change it. It’s about holding space with kindness and quiet respect, allowing their feelings, struggles, and joys to simply exist. I discovered that it means listening deeply, sitting with silence when it’s needed, and creating room for both the difficult and the everyday conversations.
One of the most profound parts of this work has been forming deep, meaningful relationships with people I have never met in person. Through phone calls, WhatsApp messages, and emails, we connected in ways that transcended physical distance.
These conversations became a lifeline where fears and hopes were poured out, laughter bubbled up unexpectedly, and tears found a safe place to fall. They shared stories of family, cherished celebrations, and the small, precious moments that made each day feel meaningful and alive.
Despite never sharing a physical space, I witnessed their journeys intimately. I heard the changes in their voices, sensed the exhaustion through their words, and felt the strength behind their determination. It’s remarkable how connection can grow in unexpected ways when we offer presence, empathy, and consistency even through a screen or over a call.
I remember the hope and sometimes quiet worry as important dates approached: birthdays, anniversaries, religious holidays, and family gatherings. Patients spoke about what they hoped to do, the meals they wanted to share, the clothes they wanted to wear, and the loved ones they wished to see. These celebrations became milestones, moments to hold on to, a sense of normalcy and purpose. Planning to attend a church service, a big family dinner, or simply looking forward to a holiday brought life’s rhythms back into focus, even as illness progressed. It reminded me how deeply people want to connect, belong, and celebrate what makes life rich.
I witnessed how treatment changed them, the shifts in energy, appetite, and mood. I witnessed fatigue, nausea, and pain start to creep in over time. But I also saw extraordinary strength: carrying on despite it all, showing up for a grandchild’s school concert, putting on lipstick before visitors, insisting on cooking Sunday lunch one more time.
When difficult decisions came, whether to continue treatment or focus on comfort, I saw how much thought and love went into every choice. Patients chose what mattered to them, and I witnessed the care teams supporting them with respect and steady presence. As time passed, I witnessed subtle but undeniable signs of decline: growing tiredness, softening voices, fading appetite, and bodies slowly giving in. They became frail. Yet, their words, glances, and routines still held so much life.
Sometimes, “showing up” meant taking a phone call from bed or letting someone else speak on their behalf. Even as their strength faded, dignity, intention, and love remained. I witnessed caregivers stepping in with tenderness, holding, lifting, and feeding with every gesture full of care.
Amidst it all, laughter still found its way sometimes unexpectedly, filling moments with genuine joy. They found humour in the everyday and the unexpected, laughed at themselves, and shared stories from years past, as well as just last week – those hilarious moments when nothing went quite as planned. These bursts of laughter brought much-needed lightness and reminded them to find humour, even in the toughest times. There was plenty of gossip, too, about family quarrels, new relationships, and who “just needs to mind their own business.” These moments reminded everyone they were still themselves, connected to life and relationships that mattered deeply right until the end.
Even when energy was low, joy appeared in small, gentle ways: a warm breeze in the garden, a favourite song, a visit from a friend, or a bowl of soup that tasted just right. These small moments became anchors.
In our final weeks together, I often heard reflections on what they were proud of, what they wished they could change, and what they hoped their loved ones would remember. They redefined what a good life meant and what truly mattered at the end.
As death neared, our conversations grew shorter. Sometimes, there were no words at all. And then came the call, each one as heartbreaking as the last, letting me know they had passed. I offered what support I could. Held space for grief. And witnessed families struggling to find footing in a world without their loved one.
As I step into my new role as a Clinical Keeper, the lessons and relationships from my time as a Care Partner continue to guide me. Though my daily responsibilities have changed, my commitment to bearing witness to each patient’s story and holding space with compassion and respect remains as strong as ever.
I carry with me the honour of having witnessed lives full of courage, laughter, love, and profound humanity. These experiences remind me that every role in healthcare is connected by a shared purpose: to support, to listen, and to hold steady even in the most difficult moments.
By Kelebogile Khamanga
