Palliative Care

I got a letter from the doctor's today, requesting my presence at the surgery on Friday. Of course, it's only an automatic letter because my blood test results are back, and even if they come back indicating something that could cause my tiredness then it will most likely be innocuous, but I'll tell you what...it's scary! The mind immediately jumps to conclusions. They must've sent the letter because it's serious....it's leukaemia....shit. Being the patient for just a second reminds me just how different the situations are for them than doctors.
On that note, the work we did today on breaking bad news was quite interesting. No matter what you do it'll still be bad news, but there's plenty you can do not to screw it up even more, like fire a "warning shot" to suggest something nasty is coming. We watched a video (yes, a thoroughly modern medical education) about how not to do it. It was totally hilarious how the actor/patient got angry when the actor/consultant told him that "that's how it goes". And of course, we couldn't get away without doing a roleplay, which was actually pretty helpful. You really got to see how speechless and dumbfounded some people get when they search for a better word than "terminal" or "cancer".
It was part of the first day of my Palliative Care week, which has already cast away some of my assumptions. The unit is modern and run by skilled professionals, and has more than adequate facilities to deal with it's patients, who are often not visibly ill at all. The 72 year old lady I saw today was alert and orientated, and talked fluently and at length about her situation. And quite against my preconceptions, she, like 50% of hospice patients, will go home. The services are used for exacerbations of terminal illnesses, but not exclusively at the very end of life.
Unfortunatley I won't be around for the last day of the week, because I'll be on hockey tour in Amsterdam, possibly trying out painkilling medication in totally different circumstances.
Ironic, I can't help thinking.