Shedidn’tmakeit.Shecamebacktothehospitalthat
samenight.Just thecarride,with allits swaying and
bumps, set her vomiting again. The crampy attacks
returned. Things only got worse at home.
We agreed surgery was the best course now and
scheduled her for it the next day. I would focus on
restoringherabilitytoeatandputtingdrainagetubesin.
Afterward, she could decide if she wanted more
chemotherapyortogoonhospice.Shewasasclearas
I’veseenanyonebeabouthergoalsandwhatshewanted
to do to achieve them.
Yetstillshewasindoubt.Thefollowingmorning,she
told me to cancel the operation.
“I’m afraid,” she said. She didn’t think she had the
couragetogoaheadwiththeprocedure.She’dtossedall
nightthinkingaboutit.Sheimaginedthepain,thetubes,
theindignitiesofthepossibleileostomy,andthenthere
weretheincomprehensiblehorrorsofthecomplications
shecouldface.“Idon’twanttotakeriskychances,”she
said.
Aswetalked,itbecameclearthatherdifficultywasn’t
lackofcouragetoactinthefaceofrisks.Herdifficulty
wasinsortingouthowtothinkaboutthem.Hergreatest
fearwasofsuffering,shesaid.Althoughweweredoing
theoperationin orderto reduceher suffering,couldn’t
the procedure make it worse rather than better?
Yes,Isaid.Itcould.Surgeryofferedherthepossibilityof
beingable to eat againand a very good likelihoodof
controllinghernausea,butitcarried substantialriskof
givingheronlypainwithoutimprovementoraddingyet