Mother was
dying slowly. She could no longer communicate. Her health care proxy (this was
in New York) wanted to follow Mother’s wishes and keep her comfortable –
palliative care – and to withhold artificial food or hydration when matters got
to that stage. The relatives who lived nearby all agreed.
At 11 pm, the son
from California, who had not seen her for 20 years, arrived on the ward unannounced
and proclaimed that “everything must be done” to keep her alive. By
“everything” he meant artificial everything – tubes for food, tubes for
hydration, artificial breathing on a machine, a cardiac monitor and any
resuscitation that might be indicated: a full-court press in the ICU.
Only 10%
of us die quickly. An accident, murder, a massive heart attack or a stroke
carries us off suddenly or we die quietly in our sleep one night. The other 90%
of us have a long, protracted downhill course over many months, and with
diseases like Alzheimer’s, over a few years.
In the
early stages of a potentially fatal disease, say, cancer, there are curative
treatments. Cancer might need surgery, maybe followed by radiation or
chemotherapy. If the cancer recurs, a different form of chemotherapy may be
worth a try, but the likelihood of cure becomes less and the probability of
unpleasant side effects greater. By a third round, the patient or the doctor
may hope “cure” but the reality is that in the unlikely event the new cocktail
will at best prolong life a few weeks, maybe a few months. It is almost certain
the patient will have side effects that are hard to tolerate. Many patients who
had been through three rounds have told me the side effects were worse than the
disease.
If the
patient, the family, or the doctor are adamant that “everything should be done”
matters progress sooner or later to an ICU. Life support means mechanical
respirators, intravenous tubes, nasogastric tubes or direct stomach tubes,
dialysis, heart monitors. The ICU has constant noise, constant bright lights,
rare privacy. It is expensive setting. The attitude “everything must be done”
is responsible for the adage that we Americans spend more on a medical care in
the last few months of a person’s life than in all the rest of their life
combined.
The
alternative to “everything” is called palliative care. It provides more care,
more effective care, and more preventive care than “everything.” Palliative
care is often given in a Hospice, the hospital, in a special house, often at
the patient’s own home.
There is
lots of treatment. It is directed at relieving the many symptoms every terminal
illness produces as one organ system or another begins to slow down and shut
down. Other treatment helps patient and family cope with problems getting
around or using hands and arms, and with social needs and problems, and with legal
issues, and with psychological issues and needs, and with the spiritual issues
that invariably arise at the end of life.
Does the
patient feel abandoned by God? Are there life goals that need to be completed?
Does forgiveness need to be requested or accepted?
An
entire team of doctors, nurses, social workers, therapists, counselors, and
spiritual experts work in unison to help patient and family. Other experts,
like lawyers, may get involved from time to time.
This has
led to a paradox. In many parts of the country, ¼ to 1/3 of the patients who
are admitted early to hospice end up surviving with a good quality of life for
two or three years longer than expected. It is due to the quality and breadth
of care, which are greater than care provided outside Hospice. The Hospice team
pays a lot of attention to preventing problems and to catch and reverse them
quickly. Many people who work in Hospice think the relief from spiritual
worries and social concerns plays an important role.
There
are notable legal cases in which world-renowned Hospices were sued by the
Federal Government for fraud because so many of their patients lived so long
after admission. Luckily, this foolishness seems to have ceased.
What
about the conflict between the son from California and the rest of Mother’s
family? It’s a fairly common issue. (When Mother lives in California, the
outsider is the “daughter from New York”.)
The key
is the 20-year absence. There has been estrangement, deliberate or not, maybe
in reaction to some disagreement or slight, maybe not. The son has a mixed
emotions and needs. He feels guilty. He is longing for love from Mother, and to
be able to talk with her either to give forgiveness or more often to seek
forgiveness. He was not around and did not participate in the discussions the
medical team had with Mother and the family, so he does not understand the
futility of “everything” care, and that it actually makes matters worse,
increases the patient’s suffering, shortens life, and costs family and society emotional and spiritual anguish and at least as much money
as all the other medical costs throughout Mother’s life: all for a futile
gesture. Futile, but well meant.
In our
hospitals, three of us from the ethics committee would meet the son in a
conference room on the ward. My colleagues were a nurse or social worker and
someone from the community, usually a businessman with a strong interest in
business ethics and medical ethics. I was the physician. We were joined by a senior
nurse from the ward, the ward’s social worker, and sometimes the nurse who had
cared for Mother the most in recent days.
The
explanation was given kindly, gently, with compassion; never arguing. Each of
us took part spontaneously. The gist of it was, “we understand. This has
happened before. It doesn’t upset us. Your wishes are an expression of your
love for Mother and your wanting to do the most for her, her comfort, and her
happiness. Perhaps you are hoping against hope that she will wake up, by some
miracle, and you’ll be able to talk with her. You’d like to make up, apologize,
forgive or be forgiven. Actually, even though she is in a coma, we know she can
feel and hear. If you stroke her forehead, hold her hand, talk quietly to her,
some part of her will know, will understand, will appreciate what you are
doing.”
Only
when the son grasped this would we go on to explain that the kind of
“everything care” he sought would make things worse; and we would talk about
that only if he needed more reassurance that everything reasonable and helpful
was indeed being done.
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