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JOURNAL OF PALLIATIVE MEDICINEVolume 8, Number 6, 2005© Mary Ann Liebert, Inc.

“Excuse Me, But Do You Mind if I Play Through . . . ”

JO M. WEIS

IWALKED INTO Jon’s room expecting to see a dy-ing man filled with death anxiety. Instead, I left

with a deep sense of the power of the humanmind to transform even the worst of times intoones of peace and joy. Jon was a 62-year-old manwho had carried a cancer diagnosis for more than2 years. His present hospitalization was for paincontrol and for goal setting as to his limited fu-ture. His prostate cancer had metastasized to hisbones and large tumors pressed on his spine, ribs,and sternum. His treating physicians had care-fully titrated narcotic medications to relieve thepain, but Jon continued to be extremely anxiousand had collapsed several times while beinghelped to the bathroom. I first met Jon slidingover his bedside table; two nurses struggling toright him and help him safely back into his bed.It was evident that in addition to his physicalpain, he was not coping well psychologically.

I am a psychologist working with inpatientsunder palliative care. My job is to help supportpatients and families during the difficult timessurrounding serious illness. I love my job. I sharethe worst of human times with what can be themost transcendent of times. My dissertation ad-visor and long-time mentor once told me that be-ing a psychologist allows you to live a millionlives in one.

I waited until Jon was as physically comfort-able as he could be before I spoke. I introducedmyself and he immediately inquired whether hisdoctors thought he was a “nut case.” I respondedto the negative and released a smile. He did notsmile back. The terror in his eyes chilled me. Jonwas so anxious that he was experiencing periph-eral numbness. We talked about his cancer. Wetalked about his family. His breathing slowed.We practiced some relaxation exercises togetherand tears flowed down his cheeks. They floweddown mine as he shared his unmet hopes and

dreams. As the tension flowed from his body sodid much of his pain. He lay back deeply into hisbed and he shut his eyes. I asked him what wasone thing that he would still like to do before hedied. He thought for a few moments and said thata nine-hole round of golf would have been nice.More tears wet his cheeks. Some time passed.

“If you leave yours eyes shut, Jon, which golfcourse can you picture in your mind?,” I calmlyasked. Jon described a small course near hishome. “Jon, would you like to play?” I inquired.“Oh, yeah!,” he responded. “Well, what is hap-pening in your mind right now? Can you getyourself to the first tee?” He looked somewhatpuzzled. A little time passed and then he said,“Wow! That one went 250 yards!” I said, “Greatshot!” Silence fell again for a few moments. Icould wait no longer and finally asked, “What ishappening now, Jon?” He said, “Oh, the first holewas a bogey but I just made par on the second.”Again, a short time passed and then Jon smiledwildly and shouted, “Hole in one!” He then saidsoftly, “Thank you!” I said, “You are most wel-come.” I slowly left the room.

I went back to visit Jon the next afternoon. Hewas calm and relaxed and joking with the hospi-tal staff. When we were finally alone, I asked himhow he was doing. He just smiled and said, “I’mtaking my best buddy out for 18 holes today.”

Address reprint requests to:Jo M. Weis, Ph.D.

Medical College of WisconsinDepartment of Psychiatry and

Behavioral Medicine8701 Watertown Plank Road

Milwaukee, WI 53226

E-mail: jmweis@mcw.edu

Personal Reflections

Medical College of Wisconsin, Behavioral Health at Tosa Center, Wauwatosa, Wisconsin.