Cancer Sucks

This morning on rounds, my team and I visited a lovely older lady who has ovarian cancer. It has spread throughout her abdomen, and she isn't responding to chemo any more. We were trying to solve some of her main problems, which are (relatively) minor things like nausea and constipation, when she tearfully began to explain to us that all she really wanted was to go home. She had spoken to family, who all wanted her to keep up the good fight for as long as possible, but really she was just so tired of being uncomfortable. You could tell in her voice and her eyes that, deep down in her soul, she was ready to be done and move on and not suffer, but she also did not want to let her family down. Medically, there's really not much to be done for her except keep giving her chemo that's only holding the most severe symptoms at bay, all while creating new symptoms that aren't all that much better than the old ones. And down in my heart, as we patted her shoulder and told her we would call a chaplain and arrange a family meeting to decide where to go from here, I saw the face of my grandfather as he begged us, not long before he passed away, to just take him home from the hospital.

Moments like these are visceral, soulful, painful, terrifying, gut-wrenching and momentous. They are the reason I wanted to become a doctor, and they make otherwise boring rotations meaningful. I hope I am able to visit her again tomorrow on rounds, even though she is not technically my patient. And I hope that whatever choices she makes, they are the right ones for her and she is able to live out her remaining time in as little pain as possible.