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Neurology, like any other field, has its share of tragic and incurable diseases. We do our best to shepherd patients and their families through a disorder by offering advice, symptomatic treatment, Family and Medical Leave Act signatures, and a shoulder.
But, inevitably, we come down to one of the most difficult discussions: the end game.
Hospice is never an easy subject to raise. I try to initiate the discussion in advance, so that the decisions and paperwork are in place.
One of the hardest parts is the misconception that hospice means you’re giving up: giving up on caring, giving up on hoping, giving up on treating. I work to try and overcome this.
Hospice may be a change in the treatment plan, but it’s still part of treatment. Finding a way to relieve suffering and provide comfortable surroundings in the final days, while often overlooked, is very important. Peace at a difficult time is sorely needed, more so than another round of tests or invasive procedures.
Yet, it’s not seen that way. Maybe this is cultural. Here, medicine is seen as a cutting-edge field, where there’s always something else that can be done: more scans, another hi-tech bioengineered drug, or some sort of amazing interventional procedure. Although we usually think of all the things we can do, it’s equally important to focus on what we should do. They aren’t always the same – a point that’s often lost.
Sometimes the best thing to do is … everything you can to just make someone comfortable. That’s not giving up. It’s recognizing when it becomes the right decision for the patient and not their family, friends, or anyone else. The patient is the one who really matters.
In an age when newer and flashier facilities and treatments are promoted, keeping the patient’s best interests in mind is critical. Sometimes we get blindsided by the amazing breakthroughs we didn’t have 20, 10, even 5 years ago. So we need to recognize when the best treatment is … to stop.
Quality of life extends all the way up to the moment of death. Part of our job is to keep the Grim Reaper away, but we inevitably lose. It is equally important, though, and sometimes forgotten, to keep the patient as comfortable as possible on the journey. And that isn’t giving up.
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.
Neurology, like any other field, has its share of tragic and incurable diseases. We do our best to shepherd patients and their families through a disorder by offering advice, symptomatic treatment, Family and Medical Leave Act signatures, and a shoulder.
But, inevitably, we come down to one of the most difficult discussions: the end game.
Hospice is never an easy subject to raise. I try to initiate the discussion in advance, so that the decisions and paperwork are in place.
One of the hardest parts is the misconception that hospice means you’re giving up: giving up on caring, giving up on hoping, giving up on treating. I work to try and overcome this.
Hospice may be a change in the treatment plan, but it’s still part of treatment. Finding a way to relieve suffering and provide comfortable surroundings in the final days, while often overlooked, is very important. Peace at a difficult time is sorely needed, more so than another round of tests or invasive procedures.
Yet, it’s not seen that way. Maybe this is cultural. Here, medicine is seen as a cutting-edge field, where there’s always something else that can be done: more scans, another hi-tech bioengineered drug, or some sort of amazing interventional procedure. Although we usually think of all the things we can do, it’s equally important to focus on what we should do. They aren’t always the same – a point that’s often lost.
Sometimes the best thing to do is … everything you can to just make someone comfortable. That’s not giving up. It’s recognizing when it becomes the right decision for the patient and not their family, friends, or anyone else. The patient is the one who really matters.
In an age when newer and flashier facilities and treatments are promoted, keeping the patient’s best interests in mind is critical. Sometimes we get blindsided by the amazing breakthroughs we didn’t have 20, 10, even 5 years ago. So we need to recognize when the best treatment is … to stop.
Quality of life extends all the way up to the moment of death. Part of our job is to keep the Grim Reaper away, but we inevitably lose. It is equally important, though, and sometimes forgotten, to keep the patient as comfortable as possible on the journey. And that isn’t giving up.
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.
Neurology, like any other field, has its share of tragic and incurable diseases. We do our best to shepherd patients and their families through a disorder by offering advice, symptomatic treatment, Family and Medical Leave Act signatures, and a shoulder.
But, inevitably, we come down to one of the most difficult discussions: the end game.
Hospice is never an easy subject to raise. I try to initiate the discussion in advance, so that the decisions and paperwork are in place.
One of the hardest parts is the misconception that hospice means you’re giving up: giving up on caring, giving up on hoping, giving up on treating. I work to try and overcome this.
Hospice may be a change in the treatment plan, but it’s still part of treatment. Finding a way to relieve suffering and provide comfortable surroundings in the final days, while often overlooked, is very important. Peace at a difficult time is sorely needed, more so than another round of tests or invasive procedures.
Yet, it’s not seen that way. Maybe this is cultural. Here, medicine is seen as a cutting-edge field, where there’s always something else that can be done: more scans, another hi-tech bioengineered drug, or some sort of amazing interventional procedure. Although we usually think of all the things we can do, it’s equally important to focus on what we should do. They aren’t always the same – a point that’s often lost.
Sometimes the best thing to do is … everything you can to just make someone comfortable. That’s not giving up. It’s recognizing when it becomes the right decision for the patient and not their family, friends, or anyone else. The patient is the one who really matters.
In an age when newer and flashier facilities and treatments are promoted, keeping the patient’s best interests in mind is critical. Sometimes we get blindsided by the amazing breakthroughs we didn’t have 20, 10, even 5 years ago. So we need to recognize when the best treatment is … to stop.
Quality of life extends all the way up to the moment of death. Part of our job is to keep the Grim Reaper away, but we inevitably lose. It is equally important, though, and sometimes forgotten, to keep the patient as comfortable as possible on the journey. And that isn’t giving up.
Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.
