Operating Through Hatred

“You’re not cutting my ***ing neck. The cancer is in my ***ing mouth.”

While many patient encounters are memorable, Mr. K’s introduction to the head and neck surgical oncology clinic is indelibly imprinted into the minds of all of the clinicians present on that certain autumn morning. This was, quite simply, a man who resonated hate. He was rude and disruptive. He insisted on an expedited workup “without any waiting.” He questioned the ethnicity and nationality of his care providers. He told me, in no uncertain terms, that he did not appreciate my Jewish heritage—the swastika tattooed on his bicep underscored the point. He bragged about his recent incarceration for armed robbery. While my colleagues and I were tempted to simply refuse to assume his care, Mr. K had a bad problem—his recurrent tongue cancer required a major operation in order to offer him any hope for cure.

Mr. K initially received an abbreviated course of radiation at an outside institution, which was limited by his non–compliance. While one might debate the wisdom of this decision in retrospect—in general, surgery is preferred for his type of tumor—the die was already cast. A heroic attempt at surgical salvage was now his only curative option. He previously sought care elsewhere . . . only to be fired by this original surgeon when Mr. K physically threatened him in the outpatient office during preoperative consultation. [It was the doctor’s fault for insulting him in the first place, Mr. K maintained . . . and no charges were filed.] We were, indeed, his last resort. Other than his recurrent cancer, Mr. K was robust; he was in his sixth decade, physically fit, and on the whole, fairly healthy. In the classic surgical lexicon, he was a reasonable surgical candidate. But was it reasonable to operate on such a person?

I remember thinking, at the time, about our obligation to care for such an individual. Of course, being a medical professional carries with it many obligations, including a judicious assumption of personal risk. And, working in a tertiary care center begets the responsibility to assist referring clinicians in the management of difficult cases. Although professional obligations certainly have their limits, defining their bounds is decidedly more difficult. Paramount is creating an atmosphere of mutual trust and acceptance. Naturally, this was easier said than done in regard to Mr. K.

Perhaps against our better judgment, we agreed to operate under the condition that he abide by strict behavioral ground rules, on our terms. We agreed upon the extent of the necessary operation (which indeed involved cutting his ***ing neck, much to his chagrin and reluctant acceptance). Mr. K promised to follow instructions for postoperative care. He assured us that he would not swear or yell (again). And, in the presence of hospital security, who reinforced our institutional policies regarding patient behavior, he guaranteed that he would not be verbally or physically violent or inappropriate, and would not make disparaging comments to other patients or staff. It seemed, at least, that we had an understanding.

Needless to say, these rules were broken shortly after he awoke from surgery. I vividly remember being summoned from the OR when he threatened to murder his impressionable and terrified nurse a few days later, who would not acquiesce to his unreasonable demands. From that point onward, hospital security was deployed to his room regularly, and anything resembling a potential weapon was safeguarded. Any semblance of a mutual doctor–patient bond was shattered. At this point, everyone’s goal was simply to get Mr. K home.

My visceral reactions to his behavior, while intense, were not unexpected, and fell in line with those of the entire team of clinicians caring for him. His antics brought his healthcare team together in collective unity (and condemnation). However, my surgical colleagues and I also felt somewhat guilty and responsible. While surgeons can choose to assume some degree of inherent personal danger in caring for a violent and angry patient, we also put the safety and soundness of the entire perioperative team in jeopardy, without necessarily seeking their input. But once we had decided to...