death

Death in America

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My father is dying, slowly and painfully. It is a death no one should endure. His body is failing and has been for the last 8 months. The intense polypharmacy applied in recent months, indeed, over a lifetime, may have prolonged his life but also initiated a cascade of additional illnesses that make death imminent, but not imminent enough. With each new drug, something else fails but because his ‘illnesses’ are ‘treatable’, they continue to treat, without regard to the suffering or the fact that while these treatments may resolve this or that immediate issue, each new drug or intervention initiates other symptoms or illnesses. Although, these interventions may extend his life, such as it is, inasmuch as his body will somehow continue to breathe, his heart will continue to pump, he is suffering and will continue to suffer far more because of these treatments than he would have without them.

He can no longer move himself (regular fluoroquinolone use leading to falls, fractures and the endless edema for which Lasix was prescribed). He has lost bowel and bladder control. His liver is failing (longstanding cirrhosis exacerbated by recent events). His heart is failing (endocarditis). He is mind is failing. He is basically deaf (long term use of Lasix). He is confused, angry and is ready to die, but they won’t let him. He exists in this medical no-man’s land, where the determination of life and death is not the patient’s wish, nor even the obvious downward trajectory that multi-organ failure promises, but whether any of these health issues is treatable, alone and irrespective of the cumulative effects of each illness or each treatment protocol on survivability. In isolation, can this or that condition be treated and thus be considered survivable? That seems to be the question. If yes, then death is not considered imminent and if death is not imminent then we keep the patient alive and keep treating no matter the decrements to ‘life’, no matter the limited prospect of survivability, or even the patient’s wishes.

Just treat. And bill. Because here’s the kicker, death is not billable, at least not for the poor. A good death is not allowed per Medicare/Medicaid. One must exhaust all medical treatments before death is permitted, even if those treatments cause more suffering than they relieve. One must similarly exhaust all financial resources before palliative care and death are permitted. It is only when those two criteria are met, when every medical treatment has been employed and when all of the patient’s nominal financial resources have been drained, only then, will the agencies allow hospice. Not before.

If one refuses medical treatments, preferring hospice instead, Medicare will not pay for the care involved in this process, even though the economics, not to mention the ethics, align more favorably with hospice, than the treat-at-all costs and exhaust-all-resources models. One has to move to a private facility in order to die peacefully. If there are not sufficient financial resources to cover the expense of a private facility, one is either stuck waiting to die by unending, fruitless, and ultimately costly, medical interventions or whatever remains of the individual’s financial resources must be liquidated and given over to the care facility. Only then will Medicaid or hospice care be considered.

You might be thinking, why not simply refuse care and up and leave the facility? Wouldn’t this resolve the issue, give one autonomy over one’s death, take the costs out of the equation? Sure, if the patient was sufficiently ambulatory and coherent to make such a move. In this case, and I am afraid in many others, it is simply not possible. He is seriously ill. He is dying. He has no ability to bear his own weight, to control his own bowel or bladder. He can barely breathe and is only nominally coherent. He cannot simply leave the facility. He is trapped; trapped by his ailing body, but more importantly, trapped by an unscrupulous system that places medical billing over all else. While some might argue that this about the sanctity of life, that we should do everything possible to extend life. It is not. This is about medical economics pure and simple. It is sanctified torture, for profit, under the auspices of care. It is a clusterf@ck of institutionalized malfeasance. It is what death looks like in America. No grace. No mercy. No humanity.

Postscript: One week after writing this we were able to move him to a private hospice facility where he died 58 hours later. This was no easy task, both because of his financial situation but also because he did not meet requirements for admission to many of the facilities. Indeed, he probably did not fully meet the requirements for this facility, but they admitted him anyway and made his last hours on the planet as comfortable as possible. For that I am grateful.

Had we not been able to navigate this, however, he would have remained in the hospital, suffering through a seemingly endless array of life-prolonging interventions until his body gave out in a manner that was sufficiently acute to allow him to die. I will have more about this in subsequent posts, but for now, to everyone that is facing even the slightest possibility of a loved one facing death and needing end-of-life or hospice care, begin your research early and seek treatment in a hospital that understands the difference between prolonging life at all costs versus supporting end-of-life measures. There is a huge difference. The hospital to which he was admitted favored prolonging life at all costs, well beyond what was humane and in contradiction to the patient’s wishes; that coupled with the inability to seek in-home hospice care, the typical mode for hospice care, made his last weeks needlessly painful.

Call for Papers

In the coming months we would like to explore death and dying in America and elsewhere. We are interested in personal stories as well as research papers looking into the medical economics and ethics that guide decision-making. For more details, contact us.

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Photo by Marcelo Leal on Unsplash.

COVID Notes: Reconsidering Death, Oxygen, and ATP

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I have had some difficulty finishing full research articles during this crisis. In lieu of full articles, and in order to more fully understand some connections, I have been tweeting thoughts and hypotheses – yes, tweeting. Eventually, these snippets will become articles, but in the meantime, I thought I would share them here. I have cleaned them up a bit and added a few links where relevant, but they remain largely as they were posted on Twitter.

Reconsidering Death, Oxygen, and ATP

I was contemplating death last night, not my own per se, but the notion of death. What is death or what constitutes death? And you know what? I still land squarely at the mitochondria.

Oxygen (O2) is fundamental for life and we like to think that its absence constitutes death. While its diminishment sure makes living difficult and its absence makes life impossible, there is something more fundamental required. There is one more step below the necessity of O2.

Without ATP – O2 cannot be used.

Sit with that for a moment.

We can mechanically ventilate and force-feed O2, but if there is insufficient ATP, it will not matter.

The relationship is reciprocal, of course, without O2, there can be no ATP.

But yet still, ATP is key.

Making fueling the mitochondria the single most important thing we can do to prevent death for any disease process, but especially something like COVID.

Unfortunately, virtually every treatment in the medical armament damages mitochondria (yes that includes all pharmaceuticals) – even or perhaps especially – forced ventilation (here, here, here). That is not to say that sometimes meds or mechanical ventilation are not necessary, but only that we could do better if we considered how O2 is used and what is required for O2 saturation beyond just the mechanics.

And that we could do better if we considered the damage drugs do to that process. [For that matter, we should also be considering the damage environmental chemicals do as well.]

For O2 to be used — we need ATP.

For ATP – we need functional mitochondria.

For functional mitochondria – we need micronutrients, thiamine especially. Thiamine drives the mitochondrial processing plant.

Mitochondrial nutrients
Nutrients required for mitochondrial production of ATP.

Thiamine deficiency — by itself, absent any other variables, causes hypoxia. They call it pseudohypoxia because it doesn’t match our current conceptualization of obstructive hypoxia, but it is hypoxia just the same. The only difference – it originates in the mitochondria.

From a lack of ATP, we get the inability of the mitochondria to utilize the readily available O2, which leads to more hypoxia and a crap ton of other negative sequelae. All of which we are seeing in full relief with COVID patients.

If only there was a simple solution…

Oh, that’s right, there is.

No heroics needed, just give folks IV thiamine, an IV banana bag when they come in, continue until they improve.

If they are still able to eat, throw in some protein, fat, a few carbs, and perhaps, some fat-soluble vitamins (A, D,K, for example).

To reframe – what do mitochondria need to create ATP? Nutrients plus O2.

What do mitochondria need to use O2? ATP.

So what do mitochondria need to ‘breathe’? Nutrients.

Nutrients are the missing piece in the puzzle.

Feed the mitochondria >>> prevent mitochondrial collapse >>> prevent death.

A few articles that influenced my thinking:

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More people than ever are reading Hormones Matter, a testament to the need for independent voices in health and medicine. We are not funded and accept limited advertising. Unlike many health sites, we don’t force you to purchase a subscription. We believe health information should be open to all. If you read Hormones Matter, like it, please help support it. Contribute now.

Yes, I would like to support Hormones Matter. 

Thoughts on How Physicians Die

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How one views death, says a lot about a person.  Should one avoid death at all cost, even when the end is near or should one accept it gracefully and live what life is remaining?  Or should one barrel through life without regard?

While death is highly personal, health and illness are social. Both affect those around us, sometimes perhaps more so than they affect us.  As a mom, I think about health, illness and death, probably more so than when I was young, single and childless; I am sure many of you do the same.  When I consider my own death, it is always with respect to how it would affect my children or my husband. That is why I was intrigued by an article published on Zocalo Public Square, entitled How Doctor’s Die.

The article, by Dr. Ken Murray, a Clinical Assistant Professor of Family Medicine at USC, details a vast disparity between how physicians and non-physicians or patients approach terminal illness and death.  Dr. Murray suggests that many physicians, having seen death, having seen terminal illness and having seen the pain and suffering associated with many end-of-life treatments frequently choose a quiet death, unaided by lifesaving heroics.  They choose to live, what life is remaining, with family and friends. In contrast, patients and their loved ones often grasp for every medical miracle, sometimes increasing pain and suffering for themselves and their family members along the way. Many patients, it seems, fight for the medicalization of death.

It may not be that simple. The comments posted following Dr. Murray’s blog suggest a myriad of responses, some none too polite. Research on the topic also suggests a bit more complexity than the doctor-patient dichotomy presented. In a recent study published by the Archives of Internal Medicine researchers found that when physicians were faced with a hypothetical terminal illness they were statistically more likely to take the riskier treatment themselves than recommend it to the patient. Indicating that physicians may fight more stridently for the latest, life-saving medical technologies.

Or it could be that when physicians face terminal illness, hypothetical situations aside, they are just as ‘irrational as the rest of us’ says former terminally ill patient and physician Eric Manheimer. While Dr. Manheimer wanted to cease treatment, his wife would have none of it and convinced him otherwise. He survived to tell about it. Maybe when it comes to illness and death, rationality has nothing to do with the decision-making process. Maybe it’s all about personal choice and personal choice is, more often than not, guided by a host of factors, including emotion.

I wonder if this holds true in life and health.  Do physicians take the medications they prescribe to their patients or do they seek alternative treatments? Or do they ignore their health altogether like so many of us do?  Do physicians approach surgical options in the same manner as patients? Does this unique and daily perspective of illness and death change one’s view of life or health? It must. How could it not? What do you think?