Category Archives: Ideas

Palace of Care – Noisy Neighbour

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Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

Her room is across the corridor from my office, the big family room in our inpatient unit. I keep my door open to allow the air conditioning in on hot summer days like today. The temperature is not high compared to a lot of areas but the humidity level makes everything feel much hotter. I am sensitive to sound and noise which is why I usually keep my door closed as I become easily distracted. From the room opposite to mine many waves have vibrated through the airspace between us leading to electrical stimulation of some of my nerves and registering as different activities.

I have heard laughter at least 20 times. There has been a constant hubbub of active conversation in the background, I cannot discern what words or even what language is being used but I can tell from the tone how connected the people in the room are. I have heard the cries of a little baby. There are toddlers talking to their uncles, aunties and grandparents. Older cousins are hanging out with each other during an unexpected day away from school. Was that  guitar I heard just before? I haven’t heard them sing yet, but I am sure they will at some stage. I have heard new visitors being greeted enthusiastically, the sound of people hugging with many kisses to cheeks. A lot of people have brought food.

I am the most distracted in the hour before lunchtime. Over the last two years of intermittent fasting, 11 am is one hour before I break my fast. From my neighbour’s room I can hear and sometimes smell  people sharing food with each other. A shared family meal can be a difficult logistical exercise in the adult life of New Zealanders. Where to meet, how to meet, when to meet, what kind of food to bring? All of these questions require answers and solid plans in order to make things happen. From my position it sounds like my neighbours are having a good time. The warmth in the room is not just the ambient temperature but it represents the shared feelings of love. The people have gathered because their loved one has needed them.

My patient is dying  and there is nothing we can do  to stop it. We have tried over the past week. We stopped medications that were no longer helping. We hoped her deterioration was due to medication side effect but it wasn’t. Was it a reactive depression to the bad news she received two weeks ago? We started her on a fast-acting antidepressant  but it made no difference. Last week I said hello but she didn’t answer me.  The dullness in her eyes told me everything . Time would be short. She was not going to make it home ever again, her family would have to bring a bit of home  into her hospice room. I can hear upbeat music being played in the language of her family’s place of origin.  Now it’s Josh Groban’s You Raised Me Up.                                                                                       
“I am strong, when I am on your shoulders…”

Even after working 16 years full-time in palliative care the stark contrast still hits me. My patient is dying in her room but she is surrounded by so much life. Her little baby, who is vocalising a lot, is in there with a lot of the people who will be bringing her up after her mother dies. Another tragic case but life will go on, another case where we have made a difference.

I think therefore I am? – Who does health information belong to?

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Photo by Wesley Tingey on Unsplash

This was a question that came to mind after a past colleague theorised about changing a patient’s prognosis to more than six months left to live to stop them from accessing the assisted dying service. I was shocked that they would consider doing something like that. In plain English, it would be telling a lie. Lying to a patient and not giving them your true medical opinion. An opinion that required at least 13 years of training to develop, but one they could consider defiling by not telling the truth. To me, this was wrong on many levels and was one of the main reasons I didn’t miss the ex-colleague much.

Honesty is something our patients deserve. We need to let them know what is going on to the best of our abilities. We are not fortune-tellers and we cannot predict the future but we can provide our best educated guess. People usually want to know how much time they have left as it puts a lot of things into perspective. It makes them focus on what is really important to them. Who is important to them, and who they want to spend their precious time with. What things do they still need to complete given the limited time left? Where they draw the line. What is too much for them to handle? To rob them of these opportunities is wrong.

A person’s prognosis is not owned by the doctor, it is the patient’s prognosis, not their family’s, or their parents’ or children’s. It is their own prognosis. They can do what they like with the information. It is their property and can be used as they see fit. To deny someone the truth about their end of life is such a bad thing to do. You might not agree with what a patient, or what another person chooses, but that does not give you the right to sabotage their plans. They have already lost so much control of their life and a so-called professional would try to stop them from attaining a dying wish.

We are supposed to provide patient-centred care, not doctor-centred care. We exist to serve our patients. They do not exist just to provide us with work, they have lives of their own, stories of their own. It is not about us. Palliative care is supposed to be focused on the needs of the patients and not the needs of the providers. Anything else is just wacko.

Proceedings of the RRIPM Round Table Workshop

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The Rural and Remote Institute of Palliative Medicine (RRIPM) has released a draft of the proceedings of their Round Table Workshop held last month in Canberra. Participants included consumers and community advocates, clinicians and managers, college and peak body leaders, as well as state and federal government representatives.

Recommendations from the workshop will guide implementation of the next phase of the RRIPM project:

  1. Maintain independence, with clearly defined roles and expectations when working in partnership across participating organisations
  2. Advocate for the establishment of a tri-partite group [RACP, RACGP and ACRRM] to strengthen training alignment
  3. Launch a trial network across training ready locations
  4. Consider proposed actions relating to education and training, leadership and governance, capacity building and relationships for implementation in Year 1 to Year 3
  5. Seek guidance from the Office of the National Rural Health Commissioner, and other jurisdictional representatives to identify future funding sources

To receive regular updates on project progress please register your interest with the project team via email rripmproject@anzspm.org.au

rripm-round-table-workshop-summary-of-proceedings_finalDownload

Palace of Care – Making the Appointment

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Photo by Wilhelm Gunkel on Unsplash

Hey, how you doing?

Good. You?

Good thanks. I need to tell you about my patient. They’re very unwell, I think they might only have days left to live.

Right, the cancer effect?

Yeah, it’s causing liver failure and has made them confused. I’m not sure if they’ll be able to talk to you clearly. I think they won’t live long enough to make it through the assessment process. I don’t want to waste your time.

It won’t be a waste of time if being seen is important to them.

They have been so keen to be assessed for assisted dying. I think they’ll still benefit from being seen by you. They will feel understood and that their request has been responded to.

Yeah, it’s still worth it. I’ll come over tomorrow afternoon to see them.

Great, I look forward to catching up with you.

Palace of Care – Sitrep

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You didn’t have a good night?

I couldn’t fall asleep, I can’t remember the first part of the night. Then I had pain, they gave me pain relief and it helped. Then I slept for a few hours.

My staff told me you had trouble swallowing your medications.

Yeah, it took a while but I was able to take my morning pain medication. It was good they changed the other medications to liquids.

I don’t want you to end up in pain if you can’t swallow your medications. I’m going to switch your medications to injections so you’ll be able to get all your medications without needing to swallow them.

Okay.

Have you had nausea?

I did but it was okay after the medication they gave me.

My team said that you wanted to talk about assisted dying. Do you want to talk about it with me?

Yes, please.

I need to tell you what your situation is. Do you want to know how much time I think you have left?

Please tell me everything.

I’m worried about you. I think things are changing fast. If changes occur over months, a person might have months left to live. If changes occur over weeks, they might only have weeks left to live. I’m worried because changes have been occurring over the last few days, which makes me think you might only have days to short weeks left to live.

Oh?

I don’t think you have enough time to go through the assisted dying assessment process which usually takes at least a week or two. I don’t want to waste your precious time doing something that isn’t going to help you.

Thank you.

Do you have any questions you want to ask me?

No, you’ve covered it all well.

Okay, I’m going to change your medications now. Hopefully, you’ll be more comfortable soon, before your kids come in. I’ll see you later.

Thanks, see you later.

Palace of Care – GPS

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Photo by Brecht Denil on Unsplash

You are the driver, not me.

You’re in charge.

I’m just here to help you.

Think of me as your GPS.

I’m here to guide you.

To try to make your journey as smooth as possible.

I’m going to show you what is up ahead of you.

I’ll do my best to anticipate the dangers or obstacles to come.

I’m going to present you with options.

I will make my recommendations but it is up to you which path you want to take.

I will listen to you, so please tell me what you want, what you need.

I will help you get through this journey, and your family too.

You’re the driver.

It’s all about you, not me.

Palace of Care – Operational Success?

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Photo by Edu Lauton on Unsplash

Our patient was reviewed by the surgeon in our inpatient unit. It was kind of the doctor to see him at our hospice. Our patient and his wife were able to discuss everything with the surgeon and he left them to think about the proposed operation. They talked about this with a number of our staff and then discussed it with me. We went through all the possible benefits and risks and we decided together that they would like to try the operation.

The operation would involve removing a specific part of the spinal cord in order to disrupt the nerve pain from being transmitted.

The operation went as planned and our patient recovered well from it.

We were expecting him to come back to our inpatient unit for a period of rehabilitation but he was good enough to go directly home.

The operation had successfully controlled his nerve pain, and we could reduce his medications a lot.

He was well enough to go to his holiday home for some weeks in the summer, something he had thought he’d never be able to do again.

Physically his pain was well controlled but the non-physical aspects of his pain remained. The existential and emotional distress were not improved at all, in fact they might have worsened. A common side effect of the pain relief medications he had used was drowsiness. Now that he didn’t need as much physical pain medication he was less sleepy, and had more time to think. More time to think about the grimness of his reality.

Unfortunately our proud patient had refused all input from mental health services or counselling. The idea of talking to people about his feelings was an alien concept for this self-described working class man. He just couldn’t discuss these things with anyone, it was a step that would always be too far for him to ever take.

I was called by the staff of the local hospice which covered the area where his holiday house was. They had been asked to call me for my opinion on what they should do in regards to further treatments of life-threatening infection. Knowing the man as well as I did, I didn’t think further treatments would be helpful. He was miserable and staying alive longer to be more miserable would not help him and would only prolong his suffering.

Psychologically he continued to shut down and withdrew from the world. He died at home after being well looked after by his devoted wife with the assistance of our visiting staff members.

Palace of Care – Desperation

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After a week with us things had settled down. Pain was better controlled with more effective medications. His skin was well on its way to healing. Our patient had become bored, and had been watching more online streamed content to pass his days. A joint decision was made between our patient, his wife and our staff. He would be discharged home with extra home supports arranged. His wife was confident that she would be able to handle things at home. Our community hospice nursing team would restart his home visits. Over the next weeks small adjustments were required for his medications otherwise everything else was controlled.

Two months later and the nerve pain which had shot down his legs, intensified. Side effects of his medications became a problem at higher doses. We needed to try something different. He was re-admitted to our inpatient unit for symptom control. We increased his doses with only mild pain reduction but a marked increase in side effects. He lost his lucidity, drifting in and out of sense. This distressed him more than the pain did. For someone who had prided himself on his intellect, losing access to it even briefly was one of the worst of his fears made real. To be unclear in his thinking was torturous, what he was most afraid of. Not being able to understand or communicate he felt trapped in the prison of his body.

We had to come up with something different. We consulted our colleagues across the region including pain specialists and neurosurgeons. An operation was proposed, and preparations were made. No guarantee of success. We felt almost as nervous as he and his wife did but we had to do something.

Palace of Care – Intertwined

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Photo by Dan Meyers on Unsplash

I went to visit a famous man in his home. He was well-known locally and internationally. He had achieved great things throughout his life. The last few years were difficult for him due to several illnesses. One bad thing added to another, added to another. A painful condition had developed at the site of a previous radiation treatment. It caused nerve irritation resulting in electricity-like surges of pain even at rest. If you’ve ever knocked your funny bone you’d understand the feeling of nerve pain, but this was much worse. The pain relief he was on didn’t work, and he didn’t want to try anything else. He hadn’t slept for most of the week. His wife hadn’t slept either as she was trying her best to look after him. The hospice nurse had talked to them about admission, but he was reluctant.

I joined the nurse on the home visit, and we were welcomed in by his wife. We went inside and there was a huge pet cat inside, the size of a medium-sized dog. I noted the chairlift as we went upstairs to his bedroom. He had been stuck in bed for weeks as his legs had become weak due to nerve issues. He had developed several skin pressure ulcers. He looked exhausted, he winced in pain. He was constipated and full of frustration. He looked broken and it didn’t take too much to convince him that he needed to be admitted. He needed a general sort-out, especially of his pain. I promised him we would keep him in the inpatient unit for as short a time as possible, and that we would send him home if things improved.

We worked on his pain aggressively and brought it under control fast. His constipation proved to be more stubborn. His skin pressure ulcers responded well to our nursing team’s attention. He hadn’t spent much time apart from his wife and he worried about her when she wasn’t around. He thought she did too much for him and he wanted her to take a break. At the same time, he thought he would miss her too much. They had been together through many hardships and many successes, the highs and lows of a busy intertwined life. Everything had become a struggle in recent weeks because of the loss of mobility. How long could they continue together at home? Would they have to live separately?

Palace of Care – Where There’s a Will

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Photo by Miguel Bruna on Unsplash

Willpower can be like a superpower for some people. Through sheer force of will they can make themselves stand up from their deathbed and walk to the toilet. I’ve witnessed people hold on until the arrival of overseas relatives. People who I can’t explain through physiology how they could still be possibly alive two weeks after they had any oral intake of food or fluid. What hidden reserves do they draw upon to sustain themselves? I don’t know, I can’t explain it with science. There is still much we do not know.

Let the force be with you. Well, it certainly is with some of my patients. The sheer force of determination. Or is it love? Or faith? People can hold on to life despite the worst of circumstances. Viktor E. Frankl and others could survive concentration camps because they had something to continue living for. What if you do not want to live any longer? What if life is full of pain and has become unbearable? What if you spent your whole life in control but have lost control at the end of your life?

I’ve seen many former professional people who had spent their careers in charge of people, struggle when they have lost control. They included school principals, charge nurses, managing directors, coaches and military leaders. They had guided their staff through difficult situations but had trouble guiding themselves through their final situation. The existential distress of dying caused them much suffering. Some of them would’ve requested an assisted death if it had been available to them. Some people will try their hardest to die and may wake up disappointed each morning they survive.

I’ve watched feeling powerless as people put as much effort as possible into dying naturally. They willed themselves to stop living and expended many hours in distress when it didn’t work. As in the rest of their lives when they wanted to achieve something they had pushed as hard as they could. Striving with the full force of their will to grab onto something that would take them away. Losing their last shreds of patience and sometimes shaking their faith, they kept trying harder and harder, beyond exhaustion.

Until.
They.
Finally.
Let.
Go.

Other people, like my patient from Europe, could let themselves go. They may have said their goodbyes to the people they needed to. They might have had one last family reunion or spent one last night with their loved ones. They did what they needed to, finished their business, and then relaxed and let themselves drift away. To sleep perchance to dream.