Thirty years ago when I was a novice home care nurse, I was assigned to Margaret, a 70-year-old woman with terminal liver cancer. She lived with her husband and a disabled son. For five months, I struggled in vain to make her comfortable, to control her pain, to relieve her physical symptoms. I watched her diminish in front of me, her skin breaking down, her eyes glazed with pain, and I felt a growing helplessness. Looking back, I know she sensed my helplessness. I remember walking into her bedroom one day with dread. She was comfortable only in the fetal position on her left side. It was.
