Compassionate, informed advice about healthcare decision making

Archive for the ‘Advance Care Planning’ Category

Is This Suicide?

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“If I do this, will it be considered suicide?” This question was posed to me 34 years ago while I was the chaplain at the Fairfax Nursing Center in the D.C. suburbs of Virginia. It came to mind as I read a recent article in The New York Times.

Source: National Inst. of Health

“Dialysis May Prolong Life for Older Patients. But Not by Much,” by Paula Span unpacks the results of a recent medical research study published in the Annals of Internal Medicine. The researchers compared the length of life and quality of life of two groups of elderly patients with advanced kidney disease. One group started dialysis to manage their disease, and another group declined dialysis.

But the group that declined dialysis didn’t just DO NOTHING. Here’s how the NY Times article put it:

“The alternative to dialysis goes by various names — medical management, conservative kidney managementsupportive kidney care. In this scenario, nephrologists monitor their patients’ health, educating them about behavioral approaches, prescribing anti-nausea drugs like Zofran and diuretics like Lasix to reduce fluid retention, and adjusting their doses as needed.”

I contacted my nephrologist friend, Dr. Alvin Moss, at the West Virginia University School of Medicine. He has long been an advocate for treating kidney failure in elderly patients without resorting to dialysis. He said his patients like to call this approach, “active medical care without dialysis!”

I wrote about this topic in a blog post three years ago. Also, if you want to watch a humorous spin on the very serious subject of the for-profit dialysis business go to Dialysis: Last Week Tonight with John Oliver.

Longer life with worse quality of life

It is true that those on dialysis lived longer, on average, about 25 months, where the group receiving active medical care without dialysis lived about 23 months. But the quality of life for the dialysis patients was worse.

The dialysis group spent about two weeks less at home (in a hospital or nursing home) than those getting supportive care. Almost all the dialysis patients had to travel to a center three times a week to be hooked up to a machine for several hours each visit. Yes, they lived 2 months longer, but with greater burdens.

Photo by Harry cao on Unsplash

Here is one patient’s approach to the dialysis decision from the NY Times article:

“Even before Georgia Outlaw met her new nephrologist, she had made her decision: Although her kidneys were failing, she didn’t want to begin dialysis.

“Ms. Outlaw, 77, a retired social worker and pastor in Williamston, N.C., knew many relatives and friends with advanced kidney disease. She watched them travel to dialysis centers three times a week, month after month, to spend hours having waste and excess fluids flushed from their blood.

“‘They’d come home weak and tired and go to bed,’ she said. ‘It’s a day until they feel back to normal, and then it’s time to go back to dialysis again. I didn’t want that regimen.’

“She told her doctors, ‘I’m not going to spend my days bound to some procedure that’s not going to extend my life or help me in any way.’”

Nursing home patient stopped dialysis

 What happened to the patient worried about suicide?

That patient who asked me about suicide? You guessed it. He was on dialysis and had had enough. He wanted to stop the treatment and die peacefully in the nursing home. He was also a very devout Catholic and wanted assurance that stopping dialysis was not suicide.

“Of course not,” I told him. “You will be dying from kidney failure. It will be a very natural death.” He got that peaceful death he wanted.

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Author Chaplain Hank Dunn, MDiv, has sold over 4 million copies of his books Hard Choices for Loving People and Light in the Shadows (also available on Amazon).

Follow Hank: LinkedIn | Instagram | Facebook | YouTube

Tomatoes, No Free Will, and End-of-Life Decisions

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My wife does not like tomatoes, but I married her anyway. She can’t help herself. I don’t recall that our preference for or against tomatoes came up when we were dating. Does anyone think of such things to ask a potential life partner? I think not.

I recently posted a video of me eating a tomato sandwich, just bread, mayonnaise, and thick, juicy, farm-fresh tomatoes. I closed the reel commenting that there is no free will in whether we like tomatoes, “Perhaps there are more things we think we are making choices about, but we really aren’t.”

NOT ONE of the many comments on the post picked up on the lack of free will. Everyone wanted to talk about their love of tomatoes and all the different ways to eat them. Our love (or dislike) of tomatoes is an easy example of how we lack free will.

A lot goes into acquiring a taste for a food: where you grew up, what your family ate in your childhood, textures you like or dislike, or how a particular food settles in your stomach. You don’t “choose” to like a tomato, you either do or don’t based on many factors outside of your control.

Judgement or pride have no place when you accept that there is no free will in a liking for tomatoes. There is no judgement by us tomato lovers toward those who dislike them. Heck, more are available for me if a certain portion of the population dislikes them. Conversely, there is no sense of pride or achievement by those of us who have attained such a refined palate to appreciate a fine tomato. We are just the lucky ones.

Free will and “choice” in end-of-life decisions

I have made a career of helping patients and families with end-of-life decisions as a healthcare chaplain and author of Hard Choices for Loving People, which has sold over 4 million copies. The first chapter on CPR discusses the “choice” a caregiver may need to make to put a frail or elderly patient through a resuscitation attempt.

I remember the scores of patients and families I helped make end-of-life decisions as a nursing home chaplain. Most often, once I explained that only about 1% of nursing home patients survive the event that led to CPR and survivors are in much worse shape than before, the families would say, “No CPR. Let her go in peace.”

But occasionally, they would say, “Life is precious no matter how poor, and a 1% chance IS a chance. We love grandma and don’t want her to die,” and then the patient remained a full code.

Did these families exercise their free will in making these choices? What if the “choice” was not consciously made by the caregiver but resulted from a series of factors and information leading up to the decision?

Determined: A Science of Life without Free Will

Last year, Robert M. Sapolsky started making the media rounds, including a New York Times interview and a guest appearance on Sam Harris’ Making Sense podcast. He has a new book, Determined: A Science of Life without Free Will. Yes, THAT free will.

Sapolsky presents a credible argument that we are not making “choices” the way we think we are, based on the science of our brains. Here’s an excerpt of his argument:

“Once you work with the notion that every aspect of behavior has deterministic, prior causes, you observe a behavior and can answer why it occurred: because of the action of neurons in this or that part of your brain in the preceding second. And in the seconds to minutes before, those neurons were activated by a thought, a memory, an emotion, or sensory stimuli.…We are nothing more or less than the cumulative biological and environmental luck, over which we had no control, that has brought us to any moment.”*(see his full 4-paragraph summary below)

What about that family who “chose” a full code for their frail, failing, nursing home patient? Maybe they watched Rescue 911 on TV, where 100% of patients getting CPR survived (see my previous blog about CPR on TV). Perhaps this previous exposure to all of the CPR successes on TV makes them say, “Yes, do everything,” without even thinking about it.

Why present a choice if there is no free will?

So why would I take the time to explain CPR and present a “choice” to use it or not, if there is no free will to make that choice? Maybe they did not know about the 1% survival rate. This new information might connect to millions of bits of data previously registered in the family’s brains, activating an assessment that Grandma would likely not survive.

I’d also have these conversations because I can’t help myself. I am compelled by forces within my brain, formed over years of experience, for which I have no control: Talking about end-of-life decisions was part of my job, family values instilled in me from my youth was to do your duty on the job, the long line of nurses in my family fostered a natural compassion for these patients and families.

I believe the scientific evidence Sapolsky presents that we have no free will is quite compelling. Most people may disagree, citing religious and spiritual arguments over whether or not we have free will.

Humor me on this one. If there is no free will, we must be less judgmental of those who “choose” a path we feel is wrong. If they’re basing that decision on information spanning generations, they couldn’t help themselves. Conversely, I can’t take credit if my actions led to more compassionate end-of-life care for a patient. I had nothing to do with all that went into their family’s “choices.”

In this brief blog, I cannot begin to cover what it took Sapolsky over 500 pages to say, but I added a larger excerpt of his book below.

Now I’ve got to go back to the farmer’s market because I am out of tomatoes. I can’t help myself.

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Author Chaplain Hank Dunn, MDiv, has sold over 4 million copies of his books Hard Choices for Loving People and Light in the Shadows (also available on Amazon).

Follow Hank: LinkedIn | Instagram | Facebook | YouTube

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*Below is the summary of the basic thesis by Robert M. Sapolsky in his book, Determined: A Science of Life without Free Will, pages 3-4

“Once you work with the notion that every aspect of behavior has deterministic, prior causes, you observe a behavior and can answer why it occurred: as just noted, because of the action of neurons in this or that part of your brain in the preceding second. And in the seconds to minutes before, those neurons were activated by a thought, a memory, an emotion, or sensory stimuli. And in the hours to days before that behavior occurred, the hormones in your circulation shaped those thoughts, memories, and emotions and altered how sensitive your brain was to particular environmental stimuli. And in the preceding months to years, experience and environment changed how those neurons function, causing some to sprout new connections and become more excitable, and causing the opposite in others.

“And from there, we hurtle back decades in identifying antecedent causes. Explaining why that behavior occurred requires recognizing how during your adolescence a key brain region was still being constructed, shaped by socialization and acculturation. Further back, there’s childhood experience shaping the construction of your brain, with the same then applying to your fetal environment. Moving further back, we have to factor in the genes you inherited and their effects on behavior.

“But we’re not done yet. That’s because everything in your childhood, starting with how you were mothered within minutes of birth, was influenced by culture, which means as well by the centuries of ecological factors that influenced what kind of culture your ancestors invented, and by the evolutionary pressures that molded the species you belong to. Why did that behavior occur? Because of biological and environmental interactions, all the way down?

“As a central point of this book, those are all variables that you had little or no control over. You cannot decide all the sensory stimuli in your environment, your hormone levels this morning, whether something traumatic happened to you in the past, the socioeconomic status of your parents, your fetal environment, your genes, whether your ancestors were farmers or herders. Let me state this most broadly, probably at this point too broadly for most readers: we are nothing more or less than the cumulative biological and environmental luck, over which we had no control, that has brought us to any moment.”

“Can I do this again?” — Men, Aging, and Performance

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“They” say men of a certain age are concerned about performance. Last week, while hiking the Big Schloss in 97-degree heat, this crossed my mind as I asked myself, “Can I do this again?”

Sundown on the Big Schloss

My bladder cancer surgery in May canceled a long-planned trip to see my adult children and my teenaged grands. I missed my grandson’s high school graduation and my youngest daughter’s engagement party. Unfortunately, those events can never be duplicated, but I hoped this trip would compensate for lost time.

In the last two weeks, I made the delayed trip to the D.C. suburbs of Virginia, my home from 1978 to 2017. Just like when I traveled the country speaking, once I had a destination, I looked into how I could spend some time in the great outdoors — preferably including wilderness travel.

“Grandpa, how did you get into hiking and backpacking?”

Hank & grands on 2016 hike

I used to take my three grands on overnight backpacking or car camping trips. They have slept with bugs, spiders, mice, snakes, and other inconveniences and even encountered a bear. They were always good sports at the time but have declined invitations to repeat any of these adventures in recent years.

So now on my trips to visit family, I try to plan a meal with just my grandkids and me to get some quality time and have an “ask-me-anything” session. This time, we went to Chili’s right after I returned from an overnight in the woods.

Out to eat with the grands.

Over hamburgers and fries, my grandson asked, “Grandpa, how did you get into hiking and backpacking?” I thought back. It was actually a chance reading of a Redbook magazine article. In 1971, while I was in seminary, I had taken their grandmother to the doctor’s office. This was back before we could occupy ourselves with phones when waiting rooms were piled with old magazines.

Hank, left, and Charles. First backpack trip, 1974

The Redbook article was about a five-day backpacking trip into the backcountry of Yellowstone National Park. The writer was in one of the most visited parks in the country, and they never encountered another human during the whole trip. I said to myself, “I want that.”

Thus, my love of wilderness camping was born in the waiting room of a doctor’s office. It took a while, but my first overnight carry-everything-on-my-back-away-from-roads-and-the-grid trip was on March 1, 1974.

My most recent trip was July 16, 2024.

“Can I do this again?”

As I mentioned, while planning this last trip, I wanted to add a night in the woods amid visits to family and friends. The Big Schloss was an ideal choice, less than a two-hour drive from Northern Virginia. “Schloss” is the German word for castle, and the rocks on the summit indeed look like a castle from below.

No tent, just a tarp, priceless

It is only a two-mile hike and 850 feet of elevation gain to the campsite near the summit. I have probably slept on this mountain thirty times since my first trip there in 1980, when I introduced my then-six-year-old son to backpacking.

While I was a hospice chaplain, I even figured out a way to hike the Big Schloss on a workday in the summer. Because of the long daylight hours, I could leave my last patient at 5 PM, arrive at the trailhead by 7, and set camp by sundown around 9. Then, I would wake at first light in the morning, pack up, drive home, shower, and be at work by 10.

I invited my future son-in-law, Will, to join me on last week’s trip. Though he never backpacked or spent much time in the woods, he said yes. So, we left the trailhead and headed up the mountain together. The first half mile is all uphill, about 600 feet. Next, an up-and-down walk along the ridge that forms the Virginia and West Virginia border. Finally, the last quarter of a mile is all uphill, about 200 feet.

The 97-degree heat, the incline, and the 35 pounds on my back all made this a brutal hike. We made it, but to be honest, it took me several hours to recover. While recovering, we set up our tarps to sleep under and cooked dinner. After dinner we had an enjoyable campfire with some “deep thoughts” conversation.

Who was I trying to convince, “Yes, I CAN do this again”? Will, who is a strong twentysomething? You, who are reading this blog? Myself? The Universe? All the above?

A surprise test

Hank & Will, on the way down from the Big Schloss

It is not just my bladder cancer but my age that thrusts this question upon me. I will NOT be able to do this forever. Stroke, heart failure, or cancer could disable or kill me. Did I just take my last backpacking trip? Perhaps.

I don’t want to make this sound morbid. Au contraire, this is a moment to be thankful for all those wilderness outings, particularly for this most recent one.

Before returning to Arlington, Will and I stopped for breakfast at a diner on Route 11 in Woodstock, Virginia. I congratulated him over coffee, eggs, sausage, biscuits, and grits. “Will, you passed the test. You can marry my daughter.”

Surprised, he said, “TEST? I didn’t know this backpacking trip was a test!”

Oh yeah. It was. For both of us.

[NOTE: I did a short video while backpacking, talking all this. CLICK HERE]

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Author Chaplain Hank Dunn, MDiv, has sold over 4 million copies of his books Hard Choices for Loving People and Light in the Shadows (also available on Amazon).

Follow Hank: LinkedIn | Instagram | Facebook | YouTube

Cancer and Things Done and Things Left Undone

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Since my bladder cancer diagnosis in May, I have found myself clearing my calendar to allow the next steps in my care to unfold. I am trying to prioritize what I need to do and what can be left undone.

Photo by National Cancer Institute on Unsplash

We met with the doctor last week, reviewed my current situation, and mapped out the next steps in treatment. He is still optimistic that he got all the cancer in the first surgery, even though a second surgery is required to make sure.

Along with the surgery comes weeks of recovery tethered to a catheter and its bag o’ urine. Then, there will be six weekly treatments with more scopes and tests.

In the grand scheme of things, these burdens do not seem too great when I think of patients I have cared for over the years as their hospice chaplain. I am not complaining, nor do I feel life is treating me unfairly. This is all part of life.

Things Left Undone

This newfound status as a cancer patient makes me think of some things that really can be left UNDONE.

I canceled a routine appointment with my optometrist last week. My glasses and “readers” both work fine, even though I occasionally rely on a magnifying glass. I do need to look into having cataract surgery, but that will have to be left UNDONE for now.

I’ve already had my last colonoscopy a couple of years ago. Even before my cancer, I had accepted the guidelines that there was no need to screen for something that would not kill me before my life expectancy of ten years. And… oh yeah… that was my life expectancy before my cancer diagnosis. A colonoscopy can be left UNDONE.

As an aside, I found a GeriPal podcast that discusses stopping mammography somewhere between 70 and 75 because there is no benefit for a woman who has no history of breast cancer and who is not expected to live another 10 years.

Things Done

On the other hand, after being diagnosed with bladder cancer, I started a list titled, “Hope for the best, plan for the worst.” I can still work on these items to render them things DONE.

In the immediate future, I will take a road trip to visit my three children and four grands. I have made this trek two or three times a year for several years. I love driving long distances; this one is over 3,000 miles round trip. I will listen to books and podcasts, see my people, and visit friends, some of them going back to the 1970s. I will also visit places that will bring back so many memories. I want to get this DONE.

What will I listen to on this trip? The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer by Siddartha Mukherjee. I heard of the 2015 book just this week. I probably would not have been interested in 2015 BC — Before Cancer.

I started a project before Christmas and got stuck. My wife had asked for a bound book of photos chronicling our daughter’s life. I have sorted through hundreds of pictures, but many more remain. This needs to be moved onto the DONE list.

Finally, another kernel of an idea floating in my head is a “life story” in pictures. I wrote a previous blog about the “spiritual autobiography” I gave my family on my 75th birthday last year. So, this would expand the autobiography and incorporate photos I have going back my early days. Get ‘er DONE.

“By what we have done, and by what we have left undone”

These words are familiar to Episcopalians. We recite them every Sunday as part of our confession. It goes, “…we confess that we have sinned against thee in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone.”

Full disclosure: I am more of an “original blessing” guy than “original sin” guy. I give little thought to sin and much appreciation for my blessings. Nonetheless, I borrowed the wording of things “done” and things “left undone” to help me incorporate my cancer diagnosis into the living of these days.

This blog is DONE.

[I explored this same content on a video I posted yesterday on YouTube.]

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Author Chaplain Hank Dunn, MDiv, has sold over 4 million copies of his books Hard Choices for Loving People and Light in the Shadows (also available on Amazon).

Follow Hank: LinkedIn | Instagram | Facebook | YouTube

I Have the Same Cancer That My Father Survived, But It Killed My Brother

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In early March, I noticed blood in my urine. “That’s curious,” I thought. It happened twice in one week, so I went to urgent care. They ran a urinalysis and confirmed, “Yep. You have blood in your urine.” The PA went on to list the possibilities of what could cause this: kidney stones, prostate problems, bladder cancer, or it could be nothing.

I told her my father was treated successfully for bladder cancer at about my age (76), and my brother died from it at age 64. Her first response when I told her about my brother’s early death was, “I’m so sorry.” I took it to mean she was sorry about me losing my brother. That moment of empathy has meant so much to me. She could have gotten all clinical on me, saying bladder cancer does run in families. But she first said, “I’m so sorry.”

I have entered the land of cancer patients.

Visiting my father at the nursing home three years before he died

By the time my father got bladder cancer he was already diagnosed with Parkinson’s and had had a couple of small strokes. He had mobility problems and depended on Mom for much of his daily care. His mind was still sharp, and he continued to write professionally, dictating a history column to Mom each week. He couldn’t type anymore. His cancer was removed from the bladder with surgery followed by flushing with medications. As far as we knew, he never had another problem with it.

But his other conditions forced him into a nursing home at age 81, and he finally died soon after his 85thbirthday. He was demented, incontinent of bowel and bladder, unable to recognize family or interact meaningfully to the world around him.

At the time of his bladder cancer diagnosis, we never discussed the possibility of NOT treating it, given that it was caught early, and the treatment was not burdensome. But surviving cancer allowed his slow decline of nine years toward a merciful death. I am sure, if my father were asked, he would have absolutely wanted to treat the cancer. Even if he could have been told about what his next nine years would look like, I think he would want to be cured of cancer.

My brother, Dennis, at a horseshoeing competition

My brother’s bladder cancer was quite advanced when he was diagnosed. He did seek a cure, but the cancer continued to spread, and he was gone ten months after blood showed up in his urine. Three years ago, I wrote a previous blog where I mentioned Dennis’ death.

Dennis was a robust 63-year-old when diagnosed. He was a farrier by profession, a demanding job shoeing horses. He was constantly inhaling fumes from the forge which probably led to his death. Smoking and exposure to smoke are risk factors that can lead to bladder cancer. My dad was a heavy smoker for half of his adult life.

And me?

Hank (left) and his sister Janice with their brother Dennis two weeks before he died

I’ve joined a group I did not choose. At this point I do not know if I will be my father or my brother. That is, a journey of 9 years from my dad’s diagnosis of cancer to his death by other killers at age 85 or a 10-month, painful journey my brother took from diagnosis to death. Of course, I won’t be Dennis in that I am already 12 years past the age he died.

I am guessing I am like other newly-diagnosed cancer patients, and I entertain the possibility that I could die sooner rather than later. Going to that place does not make me sad — at least, it doesn’t today. According to the National Vital Statistics Reports, 44% of White males born in the U.S. in my birth year, 1948, have already died. We are just two years away from it being 50%. If my end comes in two years, I would be just average.

No reason to begrudge living an “average” lifespan. As a matter of fact, I should be thankful since half my cohort will have already died.

Grateful indeed!

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Author Chaplain Hank Dunn, MDiv, has sold over 4 million copies of his books Hard Choices for Loving People and Light in the Shadows (also available on Amazon).

Follow Hank: LinkedIn | Instagram | Facebook | YouTube

Ambivalent? Please, Make Up Your Mind! Or Not!

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The old man had come to our nursing home from the hospital in declining health with late-stage dementia. Almost immediately upon arrival, he had a medical crisis. Because he was a “full code” (everything should be done to save his life in a medical emergency), the nursing staff called 911, and he was off to the hospital again. I rode with him in the ambulance.

While waiting for the daughter’s arrival, the ER doc asked me, “What is his code status?” I told him.

Part of my role as the nursing home chaplain was to talk to all new patients and/or their families about advance directives and the possibility of a “No CPR” order. This resident was so new to us that I had no time to contact the daughter, the decision-maker in this case.

Explaining the need for a “No CPR” order

Photo by Kier in Sight Archives on Unsplash

The daughter arrived at the ER and went directly to her father’s side. He was responsive and not actively dying (though he would indeed die within a week). With her permission, I offered a prayer. I then asked her to come into the hallway so we could talk.

She was still dressed in business attire, having rushed over from a corporate or government office in the D.C. metro area. She seemed well-informed, intelligent, caring and involved. An ideal audience for my “No CPR” discussion.

I explained CPR and its lack of success in saving patients in her father’s condition. She seemed to understand and said she wanted her dad to be comfortable, knowing the end was near. I told her she would need to request a “No CPR” order from the physician.

Surprise indecision

Photo by SHVETS production

A few days later, the man returned to the nursing home. To my surprise, he was still a “full code.” I thought, “Didn’t she listen to me? She seemed to want comfort only and no CPR.” I called her and went through my standard spiel about the lack of benefits of CPR.

The daughter stopped me mid-spiel. She said, “I know CPR will not save my father’s life. I want him to die peacefully. But it is just so hard letting go.”

I wrote her off as “ambivalent.” I didn’t think she could make up her mind. Turns out, it was the emotional act of calling the doctor to request a “No CPR” order that symbolized her holding on — not letting go. She was trapped in ambivalence; she didn’t want her father to die…but she wanted him to have a peaceful death.

Frustration with ambivalent patients/families among providers

This story about this patient and his daughter came to mind as I listened to a recent GeriPal podcast, “Ambivalence in Decision-Making.” The two physician hosts discuss the topic with three bioethicists and a doctor. You can listen to the podcast, watch it on YouTube, or read a transcript. Dr. Josh Briscoe discusses this thoroughly in a substack post, “Ambivalence in Clinical Decision-Making: Or, Having Your Cake and Eating it Too.”

Healthcare providers — doctors, nurses, social workers, and chaplains — see this all the time. We can feel frustrated that people can’t make up their minds. Did I not explain it well enough? Do they need more information?

One of the guests on the podcast note, “Ambivalence should be a flag that something’s going on here, something’s important, and we should slow down and pay attention to that.”

They then go on to reframe this indecision as a good thing, saying that ambivalent decision makers “are really sitting with their options and sitting in that tension. And that for us, felt almost like [it was] a good thing. Look how seriously someone’s taking this decision, right? They really want to make sure they get it right and that it’s a choice they can live with.”

At the end of my story, the daughter did request the “No CPR” order. Her dad died a few days later, peacefully.

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Author Chaplain Hank Dunn, MDiv, has sold over 4 million copies of his books Hard Choices for Loving People and Light in the Shadows (also available on Amazon).

Follow Hank: LinkedIn | Instagram | Facebook | YouTube

Guest on “Seeing Death Clearly” Podcast

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I am the guest this week on the “Seeing Death Clearly” Podcast with host Jill McClennen. We talk about making end-of-life decisions and my Hard Choices for Loving People book.

Here is the link to the podcast on Jill’s website: https://www.endoflifeclarity.com/seeing-death-clearly-podcast

Listen on Apple Podcasts: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/seeing-death-clearly/id1661355352?i=1000652400832

Listen on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/6BxGAdDYkkfcXKue3RUQca

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Author Chaplain Hank Dunn, MDiv, has sold over 4 million copies of his books Hard Choices for Loving People and Light in the Shadows (also available on Amazon).

Follow Hank: LinkedIn | Instagram | Facebook | YouTube

Toby Keith Quit Chemo

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“I quit chemo…and it probably did more damage to me than the cancer did….” This was Toby Keith’s feelings about chemotherapy, according to his friend Brett Favre.

So, is the takeaway to never do chemo? Absolutely NOT.

Photo by Hiroshi Tsubono on Unsplash

Country singer Toby Keith was diagnosed with stomach cancer in 2021. About six months later, he announced to his fans on social media that he was receiving chemotherapy, radiation, and surgery.

“So far, so good,” Mr. Keith wrote in a June 2022 statement on multiple social media platforms. “I need time to breathe, recover, and relax. I am looking forward to spending this time with my family. But I will see the fans sooner than later. I can’t wait.”

Keith’s last concert in Las Vegas, (TobyKeith.com)

Indeed, he got back out there and played a series of shows in Las Vegas less than two months prior to his death a few weeks ago. In an interview right before he died, he said, “Cancer is a roller coaster. You just sit here and wait on it to go away — it may not ever go away.”

“[Keith] handled it with grace and faith and family and stood up to the cancer as good as you can,” said the former Green Bay Packers quarterback. “[But] I think in the end he was just tired,” Favre added.

We can hardly base treatment decisions on one man’s experience. Mr. Keith, diagnosed at age 60, made his decision based on the type of cancer he had and his own unique goals of care at that stage in the disease.

I am guessing if, during that last phone call, Favre asked, “Do you regret getting the chemo?” Keith might have responded, “Not at all.” Perhaps it bought him some time. Maybe, earlier in the treatment, he did not think it was causing “more damage… than the cancer.”

In my years as a hospice chaplain, I got to see patients after they had stopped treatments that were meant to cure the disease. Heck, you can’t get into hospice unless you stop curative treatments. Many expressed similar sentiments as Toby Keith. In medical-speak, “the burdens outweighed the benefits.” There, perhaps, was a time when the benefits were greater, but no more.

Or, to paraphrase Ecclesiastes in the Hebrew Bible, “There is a time for chemo and a time for no chemo.”

Let go and let be.

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Author Chaplain Hank Dunn, MDiv, has sold over 4 million copies of his books Hard Choices for Loving Peopleand Light in the Shadows (also available on Amazon).

Follow Hank: LinkedIn | Instagram | Facebook | YouTube

Long-distance Caregiving is Difficult: Listen to Podcast

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I am the guest this week on “The Clarity Podcast” with Aaron Santmyire. Aaron is a missionary in Africa and started the podcast to help other missionaries with issues related to their work overseas. We talk about the unique difficulties of long-distance caregiving for family members with a serious and terminal illness. We cover the end-of-life decisions I have written about in my book, “Hard Choices for Loving People.”

Here is the link to the podcast:

https://player.captivate.fm/episode/386e2924-4d3a-4759-af07-97c58ebb7461

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Author Chaplain Hank Dunn, MDiv, has sold over 4 million copies of his books Hard Choices for Loving Peopleand Light in the Shadows (also available on Amazon).

Follow Hank: LinkedIn | Instagram | Facebook | YouTube

A Pacemaker for a 93-Year-Old with Dementia — I Have Some Questions

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Credit: Boston Scientific

More than 200,000 pacemakers are implanted each year in the U.S. 70% go to patients over age 65, many of whom see improved quality of life and probably have their lives extended.

Recently, someone contacted me because she has a friend “who is struggling with the decision for her 93-year-old mother who has dementia regarding the insertion of a pacemaker.”

I am not a doctor and do not like to give medical advice, but I do have some questions for the family to ponder as they make this decision.

Questions:

  • Did the patient ever indicate her feelings about life-prolonging medical procedures in the condition she now finds herself?
  • How did the patient feel about her dementia?
  • Is she happy with the state she finds herself in?
  • What would you want if you were her?
  • What would the patient think about living longer, knowing she will lose more of her mind and become more and more feeble?
  • Has the family considered enrolling the patient in hospice and focusing on the comfort of the patient?
  • Would the patient rather die than continue to decline into more memory loss?

Care of dementia patients at the end of life is personal for me

Hank and his mother at her memory care facility

I blogged previously about my parents’ deaths in “How Did Your Mom Feel About Her Dementia?” and “A Tale of Two Docs.”

Both of my parents died with dementia. We were always looking for procedures we could NOT do to allow a peaceful and sooner death. For example, we decided if either came down with pneumonia, we would not seek a cure but would keep them comfortable. My brother, sister, and I felt we handled their ends how THEY would have wanted.

Hank with his nursing home resident father

After a year and a half in a memory care unit, my mother fell and fractured her pelvis. This is a known death sentence for a dementia patient. We didn’t even have her sent to the emergency room. The hospice doc ordered pain medication, and I flew from Virginia to Colorado to be with her.

After more than four years in a nursing home, declining from Parkinson’s and strokes, my father could no longer be hand-fed. There was NO discussion about a feeding tube. I flew to Tampa to be with him, where he died six days after his last intake of food or water.

Sometimes, questions are better than answers.

________________________

Chaplain Hank Dunn is the author of Hard Choices for Loving People: CPR, Feeding Tubes, Palliative Care, Comfort Measures and the Patient with a Serious Illness and Light in the Shadows. Together, they have sold over 4 million copies. You can purchase his books at hankdunn.com or on Amazon.

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