Sunday, October 12, 2003
So, I'm on call this weekend, and I get a call from one of my patients, Jim, who's dying of heart problems. Jim's son Bob is his primary caregiver. Bob has worked tiredlessly, even uprooting his life and moving from the West Coast.
Jim's voice is so weak as he tells me he feels he needs a urinary catheter, in order to stop wetting the bed. Plus, it takes so much out of him to get up to use his urinal. Also, he wants Bob to not have to get up three or four times tonight to help him. "He's exhausted," the tired old man's voice quaivers over the phone. "If you come out tonight and do this, you'll help us both, and I'll love you forever."
Tell me how you'd be able to resist that?
Jim's voice is so weak as he tells me he feels he needs a urinary catheter, in order to stop wetting the bed. Plus, it takes so much out of him to get up to use his urinal. Also, he wants Bob to not have to get up three or four times tonight to help him. "He's exhausted," the tired old man's voice quaivers over the phone. "If you come out tonight and do this, you'll help us both, and I'll love you forever."
Tell me how you'd be able to resist that?
