End-of-life options and the legal pathways to physician aid in dying
A broader range of choice
I have worked for nearly 30 years in California oncology clinical settings as a palliative care physician and psychiatrist. During that time I have been involved in the care of two patients who committed violent suicide (self-inflicted gunshot). Both events took place before the passage of the California EOLOA, both patients were educated, professional older white men who were fiercely independent and who saw their progressive cancers as rapidly worsening their quality of life and intolerably increasing their dependency on beloved others (although their judgments about this did not take into account how the others actually felt); neither had a primary psychiatric illness, and neither had intractable symptom burden. Both men had expressed interest in and were denied access to lethal prescription. Sadly, neither had the kind of long-term, trusting relationship with a physician that appears to have provided access to non-legally sanctioned PAD for decades before the first state laws allowing it – and therefore each apparently decided to exert his autonomy in the ultimate act of self-determination. In both cases, it seemed to me that violent suicide was a bad, last recourse – clearly, each man regarded continued living in his intolerable state as even worse – but also the worst possible outcome for their surviving families, for their traumatized clinicians, and for the bystanders who witnessed these deaths and the first responders who were called to the scenes. We cannot know that the availability of lethal prescription would have pre-empted these violent suicides, but I suspect it might have given each man a much broader range of choice about how to deal with circumstances he found entirely unacceptable, and which he simply could not and would not tolerate.
An informed, person-centered approach
It is in the context of these experiences that I have come to view “active non-participation” in legal PAD – that is, decisions by individual physicians and/or health systems not only to not provide, but also not refer patients to possibly willing providers and systems without regard for specific clinical contexts – as a toxic form of patient abandonment. I am also concerned that this rigid stance (like many rigid stances in the service of alleged moral absolutes) may lead to greater suffering and harm – such as the violent suicides I have described – than a more moderate, contextually informed, person-centered approach that does not outlaw certain clinical topics. Indeed, in my participating institution in California, it has become clear that a request for PAD leads (as a result of a carefully and comprehensively constructed “navigator” process) to a level of patient and family care that should be provided to every patient with terminal illness in this country. While that statement is a sad reflection on our society’s general commitment to caring for the dying, it seems that the extra attention required by the process leading to a PAD, and the revelations that emerge in that process, often lead to a withdrawal of the request for a lethal prescription, and/or allows the drug to go unused if provided.
Many leading bioethical treatises, including those emerging from faith-based academic and university settings, also support the view that PAD can be and is morally justified under a certain set of circumstances. Not surprisingly, those circumstances encompass most of what is written into the state laws permitting PAD. They include, according to Beauchamp and Childress:5
,- A voluntary request by a competent patient
- An ongoing physician-patient relationship
- Mutual and informed decision-making by patient and physician
- A supportive yet critical and probing environment of decision making
- A considered rejection of alternatives
- Structured consultation with other parties in medicine
- A patient’s expression of a durable preference for death
- Unacceptable suffering by the patient
- Use of a means that is as painless and comfortable as possible
We tell many of our patients that cancer is now treated as a chronic illness. In the context of treating that chronic illness we have the profound opportunity – some would say the obligation – to come to know our patients as whole individuals who often have long-held health values, ideas about what a life worth living looks like, and very personal fears and hopes. We may well come to know them more intimately while serving as their cancer clinicians than any other health professionals do – and even as do any other individuals with whom they will ever interact.
The hours in the infusion chair afford many opportunities for us to understand (and, ideally, document) a patient’s advance care plans, health values, goals, views about end-of-life measures such as artificial ventilation and resuscitation. No one reasonably disputes the “rightness” of learning these things. The evidence shows us that under very rare circumstances, knowing and respecting our patients may include understanding their wishes about physician aid in dying, which requires us to build upon the profound trust that has been established by being able to hear and understand their requests. It seems to me that the end of life is the most inappropriate time for any of us to tell patients they must look elsewhere.
The opinions expressed here are those of the author alone, and do not reflect the view of other individuals, institutions, or professional organizations with which Dr Strouse is affiliated.
