Life expectancy with incurable cancer

Abstract

Originally presented as part of the 20th Anniversary of Palliative Care at Massachusetts General Hospital, this narrative is one patient's story of stage IV cancer.

In an unfamiliar, dimly lit hospital hallway, I waited for my doctor's phone call. I had always been so healthy that I could not imagine the news would be bad. When the phone rang, I walked down the hallway to speak with my doctor out of earshot of the receptionist.

“I am sorry,” she said. “The news is not good. The CT scan shows masses in your abdomen. It is likely they are not benign.”

I didn't know what to say. She sounded anxious and young. I remember resisting the urge to comfort her, and fragments of our conversation:

“You probably have ovarian cancer,” she told me. “You should see a specialist…tomorrow, if possible. Are you there by yourself? Is there someone at home? Can you get home by yourself?”

Barely out of the hospital parking lot, I started crying. At points along the three‐mile drive home in the blackness of a February evening, I sobbed.

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