Tuesday. It is the sixth week of Lent. I round on a patient admitted the night before. A 52-year-old woman. “She cried a lot during admission.” No prior medical history. She had a seizure. Glioblastoma. Resection.
I find the patient in good spirits. I observe for any signs of anguish about her recent diagnosis of brain cancer that spread to her lungs. I do not detect any. “I hear you cried last night.” “I was in a lot of pain.” “Are you in pain right now?” “No”. We talk. I learn about her family, her good health, her work, and her dislike of big cities.
She came to us only because our hospital has a stellar reputation. Her boyfriend of eight years will not be joining her due to the shared hatred of big cities. By the power vested in me, I pronounce them husband and wife. I do not understand eight-year boyfriendship.
She has some minor neurological deficits on her non-dominant side. She retains urine, which is unpleasant but a trivial issue under the circumstances. Overall, she is in good health. Had she not known what was going on inside of her, she would be healthy and whole. It is the diagnosis that is going to sink her.
“I am going to fight it!” The woman’s face is free of fear or comprehension what is taking place. It is hard to tell if it is the shock from the diagnosis, denial, or blissful ignorance. I live in the land of fighters and warriors. Nobody is at peace.
“Traditionally, many people understood living in terms of peace. When we go to war… when the battlefield is you… people get hurt and die…”
Is it wise to get into a fight when the stakes are high — your life?
Thursday. A scan shows blood clots in the arteries of the woman’s lungs. She can be surprised by the suddenness of death before she gets scared. She knows and does not know what is taking place. She is asymptomatic aka “there is nothing wrong with her.”
Friday. I round on the patient and wonder if any of her family can come visit. There seems to be a profound lack of comprehension when life happens. It is not tomorrow. Her boyfriend plans to come on Saturday.
She had another scan. It “showed” that her brain tumor was stable to start the therapy to break down the blood clots in her lungs. I do not know who said it to her. No scan can show you anything of the sort. The woman is in good spirits and living as good of a life as possible. Now. Life… the one you would hope to enjoy and save is… now.
Sunday. Some patient was transferred to the intensive care at 0630. Around ten in the morning, I notice a man with a suitcase talking to staff. I overhear the conversation. It is the boyfriend. The patient sent him a text around three o’clock at night. He never heard from her again. She began bleeding from the brain tumor and lost her consciousness. It is a matter of hours before she dies. People at the intensive care unit are trying to keep her “alive” until her daughter gets there.
The boyfriend drove to see the woman on Saturday. A parking lot guard did not let him park at the secured parking lot. He sent him to another parking that the boyfriend did not find. He hates big cities. He drove home without seeing his wife. I made sure he knew that they lived as a husband and wife. By the power vested in me.
The woman passed away at 1330 on Pussy Willow Sunday. For the lack of palms, the Orthodox in the Slavic countries make do with the local flora. She did not die of cancer. She died from the anticoagulation therapy to prevent potential complications from pulmonary emboli. She died in good health.
Metaphors that we use when we speak of an illness are not set in stone. An affliction can be a blessing, a punishment, a trial, a gift, a curse, or anything else you make of it. By the power vested in you. You cannot algorithm it.
Does going to war save your life?
It's great to have you back!!!
Glad you're back! Looking forward to more of your writing.