The affection families express for their dying loved ones can take many forms. Recently, I saw a spry 91-year-old Spanish-speaking gentleman with lung cancer which had consumed the better part of his right lung. He had a large family with many doting daughters. In his neighborhood, he was popular and well respected. He, according his family, had “many girlfriends.” His lung cancer was no doubt a result of a 3 to 4 pack a day smoking habit consumed on his porch while socializing with his neighbors.
I saw the patient — I’ll call him Mr. Gomez — shortly after he was admitted to an inpatient hospice unit for increasing pain and shortness of breath. His complaint to me, however, was “I am going crazy.”
He had no idea why he was growing weaker. Chest pain and shortness of breath now limited his daily activity. 20 pounds melted off his frame in the last two months. My interview with him was completed through a daughter who translated (a big medical/legal no-no, but it was my only option for a few hours until a translator arrived).
His daughter motioned that she wanted to speak to me outside the room.
“We have not told him about his diagnosis” she confided, her voice shaking. “We don’t think he would handle the news well.”
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