
Medical priorities may conflict with human mortality (Image: Christopher Morris/VII)
Why are you interested in mortality?
Medicine is grappling with what is ultimately an unsolvable problem. I never felt I had good answers for people who were facing death; when do we push ahead with treatments and when do we not? It wasnāt until I connected with experts working in palliative care that I began to gain a sense of how you can unravel these problems. At the centre of the issue is the difference between the medical priorities of health, safety and survival, and an individualās priorities for well-being.
Has medicine got its priorities wrong?
We make trade-offs every single day. For my patients in nursing homes, often their biggest struggle is with things being taken away from them, in the name of health, that they care deeply about. Youāll see people with Alzheimerās who want nothing more than a cookie, but are given only pureed food because they might choke. We do these things in the name of health, but thereās a larger idea about what makes life worth living that weāre not serving. That comes to bear most obviously at the end of life.
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Why have we come to see the end of life as primarily a medical problem?
I think the big change has been the family. My grandfather lived in a village in India and died at the age of 108. He spent the last decade of his life needing substantial help to live, but it didnāt require him to be in an old age home. It worked because he was surrounded by family who would take care of him ā but that only worked because young women were more or less enslaved to the task.
The success and growth of our economies have come from giving young people the freedom to choose the work they want and where they want to live. Pensions have been important in giving older people the financial independence to live without family; the problem comes when you can no longer take care of yourself. Weāve decided that this is a medical problem, but the medical focus is on health and safety ā not on what people might see as their most important priorities.
You have written that the medicalisation of death is āan experiment that is failingā. Why?
We see failure on multiple levels. One is the sheer amount of suffering endured by people in institutions such as old age homes or intensive care units. On another level, you are admitted into these institutions and no one knows who you are; no one recognises the arc of your life and the things that have been important along the way. The most important thing about you is that you are diabetic, and you have some problems walking and swallowing ā thatās who you are.
But there are other approaches. For instance, one major study in cancer patients found that people who receive early palliative care choose less chemotherapy, spend less time in hospital, and start hospice care earlier. And the result? They have less suffering, lower cost, and . This suggests weāve just been making bad decisions.
Is death a subject that doctors feel comfortable discussing with patients?
Generally, weāre very confident about our ability to manage these situations. Iām very good at telling people: āYouāve got a bad situation. We could do an operation and thereās a 50 per cent chance that you wonāt make it through, but if you donāt have the operation thereās a 100 per cent chance that you wonāt make it through.ā
But weāre not good at helping people tell us what trade-offs they are and arenāt willing to make. Choosing that 50 per cent chance is absolutely the right thing to do if you are pursuing goals that are in line with a personās priorities. But if survival means sheāll be cognitively impaired, never return to her house, have to be fed through a feeding tube and endure pain and suffering ā when the most important thing to her is being with her family, being mentally aware, or completing some work sheās focused on ā suddenly a different choice might be better.
Have you ever offered treatment you knew probably wouldnāt work and could make someoneās life worse?
Absolutely. In my new book, Being Mortal, I describe a 34-year-old woman who was diagnosed with metastatic lung cancer during her first pregnancy, and then turned out to have thyroid cancer too. I found myself offering surgery for her thyroid cancer, when the reality was the lung cancer would kill her long before the thyroid cancer caused problems. The difficulty and anxiety of trying to come to sensible decisions and acknowledge whatās in the room ā that hereās a problem we arenāt going to be able to control, just manage ā can leave you offering fantasies of the future.
Has researching the book changed the way you interact with dying patients?
The core change has been to shift from saying: āHere are the pros and cons, what do you want to doā, to asking: āWhat is your understanding of your condition; what are your goals and fears; what trade-offs are you willing to make?ā
Recently a friend came to me whose best friend has been diagnosed with advanced brain cancer and needs increasing amounts of help with each passing week. His doctors arenāt acknowledging this person crumbling in front of them. Theyāre rightly trying the first rounds of chemotherapy and radiotherapy, but in the meantime nobody knows what could happen next, and no one is asking: āHow shall we help him cope, and what would he actually want if time becomes short?ā
So what advice did you offer your friend?
That thereās a powerful conversation to be had around what well-being means to that person. Ask those questions, hear his answers, use them to make plans, and then understand that they will change and you will have to ask the questions again in a few weeks. His friend may not yet be at a point where he can discuss any more than one of those questions, but it would be a lot more than theyāve got to go on now.
Do you support the idea of assisted dying?
I think thereās often a misplaced goal. The goal shouldnāt be to have a good death, but to have as good a life as possible, all the way to the end. I support having the capacity to do something for people with unbearable suffering, but it troubles me that we have focused on assisted dying without having figured out assisted living very well.
āThe goal shouldnāt be to have a good death, but a good life ā right to the endā
Have you thought much about how youād like to spend your own twilight years?
Right now, Iād say that if my body went I would still want to be alive, but if my brain went, let me go. But I know that what I think is likely to change, and I want to be in circumstances where I can re-evaluate and have that conversation about my priorities.
We all live for something larger than ourselves ā it might be family and community connections, or making our own contribution to the world. Those are the things I want to hang on to. I also want to be in a place where I have some freedom to choose how I cope with my limitations; where I can have a cookie, even if it isnāt the healthiest thing to do.
Profile
is a surgeon at Brigham and Womenās Hospital in Boston and a professor of surgery and public health at Harvard University. He is a staff writer for The New Yorker. His latest book, (Profile Books), is out this month
This article appeared in print under the headline āWeāre looking at death the wrong wayā