He was fighting a losing battle against cancer and was receiving
experimental chemotherapy. His spouse demanded
everything be done to keep him alive.
“He’s too young to die, we have small children,” she sobbed. I suggested
making him DNAR, do not attempt to resuscitate, and she became angry.
“Boston tells us the
chemotherapy might work, and if you make him a no-code, you have extinguished
any hope we might have.”
The Hospital called. He was failing. He was on pressors,
intravenous medicines used to maintain blood pressure at times of crisis.
“I’ll come right down, “ I
said. I would speak to the spouse, discuss the perils of being a patient with advanced cancer who underwent cardiopulmonary resuscitation.
By the time I arrived at
the intensive care unit, he was gone. He lay on a gurney, eyelids open, eyes bulging from their sockets from
the 30 minute-long attempt to
retrieve him. His expression was
one of abject terror.
His arms were swollen and
bleeding, stigmata from multiple attempts to insert 18 gauge needles as he lay dying. I beheld a scene of un imaginable violence.
My patients with advanced disease who undergo in-house CPR share a common
fate. They all die alone, without family in attendance. When CPR begins, the family
is hustled out, useless civilians driven from a battlefield, an alien arena in which
they are useless.Worse, their weeping and attempts to comfort their loved ones makes resuscitation hazardous for patient and family members alike. One cannot embrace a loved one receiving a 360 joule electro conversion shock.
I am wary of buildings
bearing messages, Work Makes One Free, Ignorance is Strength, but the portal to
every Medical school and hospital should bear the warning:
Death is not the enemy, Suffering is.
Modern medicine has
forgotten this simple truth, at our own peril.
I have taken to making house calls. Some patients are bed bound, so I
throw my stethoscope in the Honda, don a white lab coat and drive Connecticut
streets, seeking my wayward patients.
The results have been startling.
I enter a house. The patient lies in the living room, in a hospital bed, dying.
In our storied past, loved
ones died of old age. Once upon a time, we died at home. We
died upstairs in the master bedroom, covered in a hand -made quilt as
family members said goodbye, reminisced, shared the vigil against
encroaching night.
Nowadays, no one dies
of old age. The term itself has become vaguely grotesque, politically
incorrect, and pessimistic. Patients die of atypical tuberculosis, protein wasting syndrome and immunodeficiencies, By giving name to these conditions, we imply that treatment, and hence salvation, exists.
I blame Dylan Thomas. We have taken his admonition to
rage against the dying of the light to heart
Family members approach
me. “ What did Boston tell you?” Boston, medical Mecca, has become
shorthand for, "the place where my loved one will receive a
lifesaving diagnosis and treatment.”
I blame ourselves as
medical providers. We sometimes encourage futile therapy, claiming to restore hope
but forgetting that the new
proposed therapy has the slimmest
chance of success, at the expense
of additional suffering for patient and family.
Insurance companies’
policy rates are skyrocketing. I
am not excusing their behavior but rates increase when we decide as a culture that
a brain MRI or 30 minutes of a cardiopulmonary code would be more therapeutic
than soft classic music in an upstairs bedroom where the lights are low and the
air smells of lavender lotion.
To be fair, we are staring
to recognize that a patients’ death is not necessarily an indication of our
failure.. We now use the phrase: Do not Attempt to resuscitate, rather than Do
Not Resuscitate. This subtle shift suggests there is no magical
procedure to return our loved one from the banks of the River Styx.
We need to teach our medical students that every patient will eventually die, will
eventually fail to respond to any number of expensive treatments
and uncomfortable testing.
This raises the point: Is
Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation ever useful, especially for patients with cancer?
The answer lies in a
patients’ health prior to
CPR. If an otherwise
healthy patient with cancer ( or without cancer, for that matter) suffers a cardiac arrest,
CPR offers a reasonable chance the patient will leave the hospital
alive. For debilitated cancer patients (defined as those who spend at least 50%
of the day in bed) a 2002 study
pronounced Hospital based
CPR “ Futile.”
I have been
fighting Chronic Lymphocytic leukemia since 2007, and
underwent a stem cell transplant
in 2011. I wrote of my
disease and the need for universal vaccinations in a 2011 New York Times op ed piece. I wrote
that cancer taught me the value of community. Cancer has now taught me that death is not the enemy,
suffering is. I am in remission ( excuse me, Ptoo ptoo) but suffer daily from Graft verses Host disease, an
insidious syndrome in which my
donor cells attack my own innocent tissue. I have experienced days so pain filled that I wished I could end my suffering in any way possible. I don’t mind dying, I dread suffering, especially
without a reasonable expectation my misery will end. I view CPR for the terminally ill as a form of needless
misery.
My patients
are becoming more involved in their healthcare. They demand that I review their
CT scans and blood work with them.
I see real irony here, but I also see a chance for improving health care
delivery. My patients panic when their MCHC (mean corpuscular hemoglobin concentration) is elevated. They
want to know what that means, The honest answer is “if you are not anemic,
an isolated abnormal MCHC doesn’t mean much.” I wish they
showed as much interest in their DNAR status. We ask our patients to sign DNAR
papers which describes CPR in the mildest terms . Our form reads, in part
if you stop breathing would you allow a tube
to be inserted
into your throat?
These forms
should be more honest and more accurate. They should read:
The chance
of survival in any patient with
any terminal disease who undergoes an insertion of a breathing tube and the application of electrical shock to
the chest is essentially zero. During this attempt at resuscitation, you may experience
pain, anxiety and fear. If you require the insertion of a breathing tube, your
family will be forced to leave the room and there is a possibly you will die in
pain and without loved ones around.
I
contemplated requiring all patients
requesting “ full code status, no matter what” to watch a video of a patient undergoing CPR, but that would be too gruesome to watch. Viewing such a video could produce its own suffering.
If I were hospitalized because my cancer
had returned, I am certain I would request DNAR status .
A Johns
Hopkins study found 90% of all graduates from the Johns Hopkins school of
Medicine would decline CPR unless they had an acute, treatable condition. We physicians have run or watched too many attempts at cardiovascular resuscitation to want this procedure performed on us.
When my time comes, I want to die in my
bed, the sound track of Kiss me Kate playing in the background, a generous dose of morphine and Ativan soothing my central nervous system and the healing scent of chicken soup wafting
up from the kitchen. Wouldn't you?