Being Mortal: Medicine and What Matters in the End

by Atul Gawande

pathway we risked heading down, and that the kind of life intensive care would preserve for him was far from the one he wanted. Endings matter, not just for the person but, perhaps even more, for the ones left behind. She decided to tell them not to intubate him. I called my sister and caught her as she was about to board her train into work. She was not ready for the news, either. “How could it be?” she asked. “Are we certain he can’t return to how he was yesterday?” “It seems unlikely,” I said. In few families does everyone see such situations the same. I arrived the quickest at the idea that my father was coming to the end, and I worried most about the mistake of prolonging his suffering too long. I saw the opportunity for a peaceful end as a blessing. But to my sister, and even more my mother, it didn’t seem certain at all that he was at the end, and the mistake that loomed largest to them was the possibility of failing to preserve his life long enough. We agreed not to let the hospital do anything further to resuscitate him,