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My patient Claire and I were at odds. She was 44 years old and came to my clinic for a second opinion. The diagnosis was stage 3 rectal cancer. It started with blood in her stool and quickly turned to weight loss and abdominal pain. I agreed with her previous doctors’ recommendations of surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy. She asked about mistletoe, blue scorpion venom, and infrared lamp therapy.
We spoke for 30 intense minutes, but by the end of the visit, she remained unconvinced. It was all I could do not to chase her to the parking lot. Claire, whose identifying details I’ve altered slightly to protect her confidentiality, was going to die young from a disease that was curable.
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