He looked so good, I stopped at the open exam room door and turned back to the fellow and asked, “Is the patient in the bathroom?” “No, that’s him sitting there,” he said.
My patient died today. Yesterday, from his Intensive Care Unit bed, he decided to prioritize his comfort over prolonging his life by any means necessary. The day before that he was still willing to allow “everything,” though he was writhing in pain.
Mr. F may not remember the catheter tails lying on his chest or what he had for dinner last night, but he remembers that he likes women. And he likes them young. He was sweet on another patient who dialyzed at the same time.
