Today, I diagnosed metastatic cancer in a new patient who had just come to see me. I had to tell this young, beautiful, vibrant woman that did not not have long to live, perhaps a few months. There was nothing I could do for her. All I could do was to tell her that I cared for her. I could montrer her my professional “love.” My consultation rapporter was faxed to the patient’s referring primary physician, and an heure later, the physician called me, in disbelief. Together on the phone, we could only share a sense of profound loss.
You might read this and think: l’amour is useless in this case. Love...
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