Moving!!!

I'm highly doubtful of anyone really out there caring - but I've decided to move the blog. I've painstakingly copy and pasted every past post...  

I have multiple other blogs under Blogger - so it made sense to house them all at one location. 

THUS - if interested I'm now over at http://superfluouspulchritude.blogspot.com/

Cheers!

Dilemmas with pain

I love being able to treat people’s pain without worrying too much about addiction.  This benefit of palliative medicine is certainly important especially in the pain phobic, escapist society we live in.  My patients usually won’t live long enough and/or have such very real pathology (i.e. cancer) that misuse of medications is quite low.

This, however, doesn't account for patients who have very real addictions and then unfortunately find themselves with a terminal diagnosis on hospice. Suddenly the ease of treating someone’s pain morphs into quite a challenging dilemma.

For instance, one of the tenants of palliative care is to relieve suffering. Thus, ready access to opioids is essential.  A regular doctor would have qualms about filling prescriptions early for pain medications or escalating doses rapidly.  But in hospice, if a patient is dying, sometimes doses easily escalate in an attempt to provide comfort and relief of suffering. 

What to do then, when you suspect inappropriate use?  Does someone with a past or even present addiction not “deserve” medications for pain? Can I refuse? Should I set limits? Refusal certainly goes against the grain of a specialty tasked with providing excellent pain control!

We certainly don’t interfere with addictions to other substances – On hospice, smokers generally keep smoking and alcoholics keep drinking…in fact it’s expected that in the last weeks of life people aren't going to change life long habits.  Is it different then for other substances?

Going deeper philosophically I could even argue that the misuse of opioids generally starts from the ability of those substances to numb an incredible emotional pain… it’s an escape, a postponement of dealing with the hurt, etc.  The qualm then is that this desire to escape can happen in very average people who are suddenly struck with a terminal diagnosis.  It isn’t unusual to treat a 40 year old woman with breast cancer who has what we coin “existential” pain because she can’t deal with leaving her 3 small children. This type of patient often has a pattern of escalating doses of morphine to escape that reality.  Is that misuse of opioids? Or is it her way of dealing with dying? I don’t know of any physician who would refuse her medications…. So why then if the escape from pain started earlier and someone got labeled an addict, do we suddenly have issues with treating their long standing existential pain?

It’s certainly a topic worth exploring and one I admit not knowing all the answers for.  I suppose for now, I will continue to treat all pain, being aware of addictions and escapism and using the safest medications available, in an attempt to minimize risk of harm. 

Katie's Choice

I've seen prolonged dying many times. Usually there is a good explanation, the individual is young or has kids they don't want to leave.  Sometimes it's an unresolved conflict or an irrational fear of dying. Regardless of the reason, if a reason, the process becomes extremely tough on the family.

One of the tougher ones for me to explain happened in a young woman I cared for recently named Katie.  Although there were young kids involved, they had been removed from the family. Those by Katie's bedside each day were her mother, brother's and sisters. Katie had fought cancer for several years, far outliving her original prognosis. 

While I had explained initially to family I supposed this would be long and hard - They and I weren't prepared for the 4 weeks without any food or water that Katie laid in our hospice bed.  She was incredibly thin, bones outlining her face and jaw, eyes sunken. She was rarely awake, but when so, in terrible agony, not from physical pain but internal fighting and issues never dealt with.

Her family was devout, cradling her in bed, attending to any sigh or moan, never leaving her side. Each morning they looked at me with strained eyes and weary souls hoping I would tell them she would die that day.  But each day Katie's un-readiness allowed her body to somehow exist past the point of human understanding.

Her final week she had stopped making any urine. Her blood pressure, barely palpable stayed around 50/30. Her toes black from no circulation, and the blood pooling we normally see after death called liver mortis was present despite the fact that she hadn't actually died.  She was no longer able to move or talk or moan. It was as if her physical body began it's decomposition in lieu of her utter refusal to actually die.

The family became more and more erratic in their exhaustion. Telling her often that it was okay for her to die. In one unbelievable moment, as this living corpse lay with family in tears surrounding her, they began to angrily plead, "Katie, you must go, let go... it's okay, it's time to die...we can't take this any more, won't you please just die!" It was in those moments that a defiantly strong voice suddenly echoed gutturally from the skeletal figure shaking the room to silence, "NO!!!!"

Don't tell me that Katie's prolonged dying wasn't in her control. I am not sure how to envision her intangible will, but it was physically keeping her "here".  In medicine we can't measure will or fight or some one's "spirit" but one thing I've come to learn, it can play a huge role in the way we leave this earth. 

While her death was prolonged and many would say full of suffering, I must respect that it truly was Katie's choice. And had we interfered medically, shortening her time, like so many had pleaded for us to do, ultimately we would have disrespected that choice. Katie of course finally did die, likely against her will, a few days after her outburst. 

Night Visitor

Failed Admission