Tag: Therapy

Fragile

Posted on by momilhem

It was a slow day in clinic. Time was plentiful. Patients trickled in to be seen. I watched my practice in slow motion. I helped a patient make a better decision about their care. I contemplated on how fragile our health really is; on how symptoms dominate our thoughts and how having good health truly makes a difference to how we live our life. 

Cancer can be very silent in our bodies with vague unnoticed symptoms. It eats at our vitality and makes us weaker though we may not feel it until it is too late. It attacks us physically, emotionally and socially. It is difficult to convince a patient who feels well to accept a therapy that itself would make them feel worse. It’s a very delicate state to explain to a patient their vulnerability and how this disease could end their lives if they do not accept the therapy at hand. I find it frightening at the number of choices there are to navigate and how little time we have to explain rationally to our patients the best options they have.

What happens when the therapy we have to offer really does not have an impact on their lives or wellbeing? Should it be offered? How do you explain with all the progress that is hyped in the media that science for this one patient lags in finding a treatment that helps them get through their ordeal?

Today I felt I had that time, because things happened slowly. It was a refreshing look at care where as things moved slowly it felt like I could see more detail and focus more on my patient. It was like watching the replay of a touchdown.  I have always felt that healing is a process that needs time on its side.

Each patient as an individual needs to be handled with the utmost care, like they were a vase that could easily break. Perhaps that is how it should always be.

 Mo

Compass

Posted on by momilhem

I am always asked “what if?”  When my patients are seeking the pessimistic alternative to the situation at hand. I have also heard of patients being given ultimatums with a deadline on their time to life. I love it when they break those barriers and surpass the times “allocated”. I have not handled these questions or these situations well. I touch upon my need to provide the right answer when I am asked “what if that happens to me?” and “when will it happen to me?” My tendency is to avoid it, try not to answer it and tonight I wonder why I do that.

Our predictive power as oncologists is very limited. In 2013 I am faced with an enormous speed at which we are discovering newer more innovative therapies to help patients. I find it hard to counsel patients in the future when there is hope for cures and longevity. This is very new for me, exciting and frightening all at once.

How does it feel for my patient? Anxiety is one of the most difficult emotions to navigate. Failing to provide them with the answers they seek creates a conflict that is not readily resolved. Science needs to help us understand outcomes of how disease may manifest in an individual and how it acts. A lot of our therapies are geared towards attacking the cancer head on. Newer approaches are taking into account how we might be able to isolate different individuals based on the behavior of their bodies and discovering better predictors for response to a therapy. I would like to tell my patient “I’m recommending this therapy because you are the one who will benefit from it.” We are clearly not there, and a lot of work needs to be done to help us be better at guiding patients down the best path for the treatment of their disease.

Like a compass leading in a general direction without pointing to a specific street or alley, when asked “Well what if that does not work for me what then?” I simply say – we’ll take it day by day and cross that bridge when and if we get there.

Mo