Today I told one of my patients that he likely has a tumor in his brain. I stayed with him for over an hour, answering his questions, keeping him abreast of the plan.
He asked me if I would read him a story. We’ve talked about books before — both of us are avid readers, and his hand is so weak now that he can’t turn the pages. It felt instantly embarrassing, and I made up a bit of an excuse: have your friend bring some books when he comes to visit you, I think it would be a great way to keep your spirits up. And scurried out of there very fast. For which I feel guilty. Especially because I won’t be there tomorrow, and it’s a bit of a bombshell to drop on someone.
On the one hand, he has to know, and for this gentleman in particular, knowing the plan is very, very important. On the other, there’s the whole “Never order a mammogram on Friday” adage. Dilemma; I’ll have to figure out a way to work this out in future.