A few weeks ago, I was running a routine telephone clinic. As I glanced through the notes before the next call, I knew this would not be an easy conversation. She was a follow up patient, someone we had seen only a week earlier. That day, I had to do what doctors dread saying the words clearly and honestly. Her bowel cancer was advanced, widespread, and carried a poor prognosis. Continuing aggressive treatment for her head and neck cancer would only cause more suffering, without benefit. She already sensed this, but hearing it confirmed felt final, heavy, irreversible. When I asked how she was, she answered with unexpected calm. “I have accepted my illness,” she said. “And I know I am going to die soon. What is hardest is the waiting.” She spoke of the uncertainty, not knowing how, or when. The endless waiting that made her restless, unable to plan, unable to settle. She had always dreamed of going to Orlando. But travel insurance was impossible. Her husband, kind and determined, had e...
Experiences penned in poetic form...