At least 67,000 individuals have died of Covid19 in the US and 244K worldwide so far. Each death is a family’s grief. How do we advocate for ourselves, each other? Palliative care = feeling less miserable. Have you discussed end-of-life and palliative care with your family? Do it now.
I attended the Coalition for Compassionate Care of California Conference (#CCCC17) in Sacramento this week as an ePatient Scholar. Exhilarating, informative, warm, curious, inspiring, and tiring. I hoped to leave with one novel (for me) insight into palliative care; hear patient, caregiver, and clinician stories about their experiences; to hear how clinicians receive education about end-of-life conversations; to add to my network of patient/caregiver experts; and leave with a sharper focus for my #careplanning work. Amazing! I accomplished all five. I hoped to accomplish three of five (I habitually set myself up to exceed expectations). Read More
10p New Year’s night 2002: Mike called me. I’m numb on my right side. My heart screamed. My boy had a stage 4 melanoma removed from his neck a year ago followed by lymph node removal and a course of Interferon. Go to the Emergency Department. The next day a metastasized brain tumor the size of a grape was removed. Soon he had a lung tumor the size of an orange removed. He called them Terrence (the brain tumor) and Caesar (the lung tumor). Once sufficiently recovered from the surgeries, he began treatment at the cancer center close to his college home. A team of me, my wife and the parents of his girlfriend (who lived near their college home) alternated accompanying Mike on his visits to the cancer center. Mike never felt that he had the information he needed. They wouldn’t talk prognosis: Am I going to die? They didn’t explain uncertainty: What does 5% chance of anything mean? I’m 26! They seemed to speak to us more than him. After a particularly frustrating session with the oncologist, I asked him if I could arranged a consultation in the cancer center near us. He agreed. I did. What a difference. Mike immediately bonded with the radiation oncologist. Let me speak with Mike alone. After an hour, Mike came out. I’m probably going to die, but there’s stuff we can try. Oh well, I wasn’t born with a tattoo on my ass telling me how long I had to live. He died November 18th, 2002. Read More