Years ago, Charlie, a highly respected orthopedist and a mentor of mine, found a lump in his stomach. He had a surgeon explore the area, and the diagnosis was pancreatic cancer. This surgeon was one of the best in the country. He had even invented a new procedure for this exact cancer that could triple a patient’s five-year-survival odds—from 5 percent to 15 percent—albeit with a poor quality of life. Charlie was uninterested. He went home the next day, closed his practice, and never set foot in a hospital again. He focused on spending time with family and feeling as good as possible. Several months later, he died at home. He got no chemotherapy, radiation, or surgical treatment. Medicare didn’t spend much on him.
Worth the full read.
And so true. I’ve joked about getting the above tattoo when my times comes. (I would quibble that the modern CPR success rate is better than infinitesimal, especially with hypothermia, but it still ain’t great.)
It may have to do with Read more »
*This blog post was originally published at Movin' Meat*