dying to see me

A housecall today to a man dying quite rapidly of cancer of the colon. I saw him last week when the pain was already beginning to set in, and started morphine slow release tablets. But he's already experiencing "breakthrough" pain, so I add "oramorph", a morphine syrup he can use as a "top-up" I also call the local hospice to arrange admission soon. There's nobody better than them to get the pain under control. They may suggest a syringe driver. I go through my little speech to the patient along the lines of:
"Now, you're going there for rehabilitation purposes; to make you feel better, not to die. In fact they hate people dying in there: they'll want to get you home again as soon as possible. Is that OK for you?"
He doesn't look like he believes me, but accepts what I say quietly.

At home at lunchtime, a call comes from one of my mother's friends. She hasn't turned up at her recent bridge appointment, or indeed her latest planned golf game either. She then went round to her house and was shocked by her weight loss and general frailty. I promise to alert the social services immediately, which I do. They say they will arrange an urgent assessment and the pressure is taken off me a little, much to my relief. I ring mum to tell her of the developments, and for the first time she accepts that social services must become involved. She then tells me her doctor called this morning and announced that she should no longer drive her car. I feel for the poor thing. No one, and I mean NO one, wants to hear this. It can only mean one thing: you're on your way out, and she knows it...