Thanksgiving phone call
Here in the US, we just celebrated Thanksgiving day, which falls on the last Thursday of November. The 1st Thanksgiving day was observed in 1621, after the Pilgrims had a bountiful harvest that year. In more recent times, it has become one of the major holidays of the US calendar. Family get together for a meal, and reflect on the 'blessings' they have enjoyed in the past year. That's the theory anyways.I wanted to share about a phone call I received on Thanksgiving evening. I was oncall for Hematology, when I received a call through the hospital operator from a patient's wife. Accessing his medical records (I was at the hospital anyways for an emergency consult), I found out that Mr. X has relapsed follicular lymphoma that was progressing. He had undergone an autologous hematopoetic stem cell transplant a 6 months ago for the lymphoma, but was found to have relapsed recently and his condition was declining quickly, despite experimental therapy.
One of her first words over the phone was ' I am not even sure why I am calling you, but...' She went on to tell me how her husband was feeling really tired, not eating, sleeping a lot, and not as interactive as usual. We talked about his symptoms. They were non-specific, and it could have been anything from dehydration, infection to tumour progression. However, as we were talking, reading through the lines, it become apparent to me that she did not want a diagnosis, or a medical spiel about his condition.
She wanted someone to talk to on a day usually filled with laughter, joy and hope. She wanted a shoulder to lean on because her husband's was giving way. Above all, I think she wanted someone else to give her 'permission', to tell it is okay for her to let go and to allow her beloved husband to give up a fight he was suffering through but not winning.
So, we talked more. Over the phone, I tried to convey as much empathy as I could. To try to comfort her with words, to provide a 'virtual' shoulder to lean on, a 'virtual' hug of comfort. I told her it was okay for her not to have to subject Mr. X to more tests, interventions, chemotherapy. I told her that hospice and comfort care were reasonable options. I gave her 'permission' to keep Mr. X comfortable at home on Thanksgiving, rather than bringing him to a hospital.
She cried, and I almost did. But by the end of the phone conversation, I want to think that she was more at peace with the decision that she knew she wanted to make all along. She thanked me and wished me a happy Thanksgiving. After I put down the phone, I said a little prayer for Mrs. X, for comfort, peace and strength, to do a most difficult task, that is to let go of a loved one.
posted by antatosh @ 10:58 AM
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