Unfortunately, his cancer continued to grow despite all of our attempts. He had pretty significant anemia from his cancer that was palliated by blood transfusions. The need for transfusions precluded enrollment in hospice, and so I continued to see him back in the office periodically.
Last week I met with him to check his blood counts and see how he was doing. He was accompanied by his "lady friend" (his term of endearment for his girlfriend) and his devoted daughter and her husband. He looked much more weak than his last visit, and he was not requiring a walker. He had recently moved into an assisted living facility and planned to close on the sale of his house later that week.
During the visit, Mr. --- reflected on the long life he had lived and that he knew the end was near. Next, he said something quite unforgettable and poignant at the same time. He said, "I am not afraid of death. It is dying that I have a problem with." He acknowledged that he thought death was part of life, but he feared a slow, drawn-out decline. More than suffering, he feared loss of control and making a burden of himself.
I confessed that I did not know how I would handle the same situation myself but that the honesty and clarity of his words had deeply touched me. We gave each other a big hug before we parted to have his blood drawn to measure his anemia. I think we both knew it would be the last time we saw each other. I choked back tears as I hugged his daughter on the way out the door. Whether one is 50 or 70, dying be not proud.
One death from cancer is one death too many.
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