Abstract

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Care of the terminal patient:Are we on the same page?Lauren WancataIn surgical training a “service” or care team consists of sick patients admitted to the hospital and the medical team caring for the patient. Each service consists of an attending physician, a chief resident, a senior resident and junior residents structured as a hierarchy. The chief was gone for the week. As a senior trainee I would be the acting chief—a role I had assumed many times before this month. To prepare for the week of his absence, I read through each patient’s chart, and the chief and I discussed each patient—diagnosis, procedures, and plans.One was a 41–year–old male with cancer—he was young, but a patient like him was not uncommon at my institution. He originally came in through the emergency department with abdominal pain and difficulty with urination. His admitting medical team started the work–up for his symptoms—blood tests, a CAT scan, and consults to other physician services with specialized knowledge. He eventually underwent endoscopy with biopsies of his stomach and placement of stents into his ureter and kidney for his urinary issues. With return of the biopsies, he had a diagnosis—cancer. He required additional procedures, including the placement of stents into his bile ducts, as they, like his ureter, had become affected by the cancer. The next step was staging the cancer to determine his treatment options. Our surgical service was consulted for a diagnostic laparoscopy with washing—we would take a look inside his abdomen with a camera and obtain a fluid sample to be sent to the pathologist for review, the standard of care for this type of cancer. When the camera was placed nodules were seen—a sample of the nodules and the fluid were sent to a pathologist and determined to be positive for cancer: metastatic disease, stage IV. A special feeding tube was placed into his small intestine to aid in nutritional support, as he had already lost a significant amount of weight, and improving his nutrition would be imperative for any further treatments. Following this operation, oversight of his day–to–day care was taken on by our surgical service, and he had been under our care for a period of time before I rotated onto the service for the month.What was the plan for his care in the hospital, and what was his–long–term plan? His cancer could not be surgically removed due to the extent of its spread within his body. He had recently undergone another CAT scan due to an elevation in his white blood cell count (this elevation was a sign of possible infection) and a thoracentesis, a procedure to remove some of the fluid that was collecting around his lungs. Nephrologists (kidney specialist) had been consulted due to his declining kidney function. Throughout the days, his tube feeds, his source of nutrition, would often be turned off due to bloating and feeling full.Each morning, I rounded with our team, and we would see how he was doing. We would discuss how his night went, and make a plan for the day. He was a man of few words, but his wife was always at his bedside, to support him, listen to updates and keep tract of his progress. She had worked at the hospital and had seen a wide range of patients. She would ask about his kidney function, his tube feeds, and his labs. But, she never asked about his prognosis. I would leave his room each day with the unnerving feeling that the patient, family members and care team were not on the same page. Yes, we all wanted him to get better and to leave the hospital. [End Page 28] But, was he really going to get better? What defined better? Did the patient and his family really know the extent of his disease and his prognosis?Towards the end of my week as chief, I started to ask if they had any other questions. It had been a few weeks since his operation. Was there anything that they wanted to discuss or ask me about? At the...