Islands colliding in the mist
I have spent the last three months on the "orange service." It is the service where we as residents are given the most autonomy in patient care. It has at times been a stretching experience and has at times been quite rewarding. There isn't anyone much more grateful than the patient who has had a colostomy reversed, a cancer removed, etc.
The tough part of the job is being the one to have "the talk" with the person you've just discovered has a cancer. Its especially difficult when the prognosis is clearly not amenable to intervention for cure. I've often thought that at some level that moment isn't fair to either doctor or patient. The people I deliver this sort of news to are people whom I have often not spent more than an hour with, at least where they were conscious. I have no idea who they are, what sort of life they have constructed, what their belief system is like, and cannot anticipate how they will handle the news. By the same token, the patient has no idea who I am, what my belief system is, and whether I feel comfortable with their displays of emotion. The terminal cancer talk, which can be one of the most devastating things anyone ever tells you, takes place between two utter strangers.
Some folks and their families degenerate into rather noisy, dramatic displays of emotion. Others are very matter of fact about the whole thing. Interestingly, people of faith are usually the most unreasonable about accepting a diagnosis of a terminal illness. We in communities of faith like to talk about how we have a reason beyond this life for living, how we are not afraid of death like nonbelievers, etc. However, I have seen these families torture their loved one with weeks or months of futile, agonizing care because "God is gonna heal momma." I remain baffled as to why many non-believers are more accepting of death than believers are. Is it that at some level they recognize it as a normal part of the life cycle? Is it that Christians somehow view God's purpose being one of protecting them from bad things, rather than their purpose being one of eternally worshipping God?
The tough part of the job is being the one to have "the talk" with the person you've just discovered has a cancer. Its especially difficult when the prognosis is clearly not amenable to intervention for cure. I've often thought that at some level that moment isn't fair to either doctor or patient. The people I deliver this sort of news to are people whom I have often not spent more than an hour with, at least where they were conscious. I have no idea who they are, what sort of life they have constructed, what their belief system is like, and cannot anticipate how they will handle the news. By the same token, the patient has no idea who I am, what my belief system is, and whether I feel comfortable with their displays of emotion. The terminal cancer talk, which can be one of the most devastating things anyone ever tells you, takes place between two utter strangers.
Some folks and their families degenerate into rather noisy, dramatic displays of emotion. Others are very matter of fact about the whole thing. Interestingly, people of faith are usually the most unreasonable about accepting a diagnosis of a terminal illness. We in communities of faith like to talk about how we have a reason beyond this life for living, how we are not afraid of death like nonbelievers, etc. However, I have seen these families torture their loved one with weeks or months of futile, agonizing care because "God is gonna heal momma." I remain baffled as to why many non-believers are more accepting of death than believers are. Is it that at some level they recognize it as a normal part of the life cycle? Is it that Christians somehow view God's purpose being one of protecting them from bad things, rather than their purpose being one of eternally worshipping God?
posted by The Mad Hatter at 1:17 PM
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