ABANDONED LEGACY “You’re Jewish aren’t you?” I asked. “Yes I am” she responded. “Well then I think it’s important that you know what Judaism believes about life.” “Oh but I’m not Orthodox ” she quickly explained

"T here’s no hope for your mother” the doctor on call told me in whispered tones. “The cancer has already spread to the lining of the abdomen. We’re releasing her from the hospital because there’s nothing we can do for her. Just take her home and try to make her comfortable. It’ll be today or tomorrow.”

For my siblings and me the news wasn’t a shock. Our 84-year-old mother had been fighting cancer for years and the cancer had recently metastasized to her bones.

Mom accepted the news stoically with her characteristic grace and dignity. “I’m still so lucky ” she reflected. “I’ve had a wonderful life I have great kids and I don’t have any regrets. I’ve thought about this moment many times and I’m good with it.”

The next day I happened to meet an oncologist friend of mine Dr. Sharon Finer on the street. Dr. Finer worked at the hospital where Mom was a patient and not long before I had asked her to take over Mom’s care. She had assured me then that the oncologist colleague of hers who was overseeing my mother’s treatment was highly competent and that there was no need to switch.

“My mother’s cancer is now in her bones and has spread to the lining of her stomach ” I confided anxiously. “They’ve told us she can’t be treated.”

“Your mother is completely treatable Dina ” Dr. Finer responded with an almost casual confidence. “I have a number of patients with that diagnosis who are on chemotherapy and doing very well.”

Her matter-of-fact response instilled new optimism in me and shook me out of my resigned mournful state. Maybe there was hope for Mom after all.

The next few days bolstered that nascent optimism. In defiance of the doctor’s prediction Mom did not breathe her last in the days following her release from the hospital. Yet during the weeks that followed she continued to deteriorate and suffered terrible pain and nausea. She was following the hormone-therapy regimen that had been prescribed by her original oncologist but that doctor was impossible to reach. And it was obvious to me that Mom couldn’t survive much longer in this state.

Desperate for some answers I called ECHO a medical referral organization. After I described Mom’s disease the ECHO representative independently confirmed what Dr. Finer had said. “Oh that’s very treatable ” she told me. “I don’t understand why they’re not doing anything for her. If it were my mother I would find another doctor who will treat her. Call an ambulance and take her to emergency but make sure she goes to a different hospital.”

I called Mom and asked her if she she’d be willing to go to the emergency room. “Absolutely ” she said.

I rushed over to her house and called 911. When she arrived at the emergency room she was given a blood transfusion; something the other hospital had said was too dangerous. After that she was admitted to a room on the tenth floor in the department of Acute Elder Care.

Initially Mom received excellent care at this hospital. Testing showed that her symptoms were a result of calcium leaking out of her bones and into her bloodstream so the hospital staff administered medication to regulate her calcium levels. Even after the calcium levels were brought under control Mom was still in pain from the cancer in her bones so radiation therapy was ordered.

After several weeks of medical ups and downs I noticed that the attending physicians and specialists were visiting less frequently. Instead palliative care professionals were visiting Mom every day. Two or three doctors would enter her room together their interns in tow and lean over Mom’s bedside eager to help with the pain. “Are you suffering Mrs. Tellman?” they would ask in low tones. “Are you in pain? Can we do anything for you? Would you like us to up the hydromorphone? Don’t forget to press your pain pump.” (Excerpted from Mishpacha Issue 655)