Mrs. Davis hasn’t seen me in over a year. It’s a burden for her family to bring her in but I haven’t yet been able to add house calls to my busy schedule. She recently turned 94 but lost the gift of cognizance some time ago. It’s only been a few months since her husband passed away though it is unlikely she is aware of that fact, she’s long forgotten who he was. She was once a respected professional, well-known in our city and a philanthropist of several now forgotten causes. She shuffles into my office, sitting with her head in her hands. She knows who she is, but that is all. She is well-cared for by family members who call themselves fortunate to share her home.
I look at her vital signs. The 15 pound weight loss jumps out at me. “Is she eating?”. Her caretaker responds, “bits and pieces of this and that, she’ll drink an occasional Boost”. “Does she appear to be in any pain?” “No, she sleeps a lot, doesn’t interact much.” I perform a not too-detailed exam and determine that she has no skin breakdown. In addition to her cachectic appearance, I notice a difference between sounds in the two sides of her lungs. One side sounds dull, though she breathes shallowly and perhaps it is the other side that is hyper-resonant. I look at her caregiver who is also a nurse. “She’s lost a fair amount of weight and there is a difference between the two lungs when I listen.” We lock eyes. After a few moments he responds, “And what would we do differently if we explored this.” I look at the patient. She looks a little tired but not uncomfortable. “Nothing, I would hope.” “Then we’ll be saying goodbye and thanks for refilling her meds.” I nod, ask him to call me with any problems and move on to my next patient.by