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Case

Mr BT is a 57 year old man with stage IV laryngeal squamous cell carcinoma, status post radiation and chemotherapy who is now thought to have no evidence of metastases or recurrence. He was followed in a palliative care clinic for chronic musculoskeletal pain and was referred to a new palliative care physician when his prior physician left the practice. Upon presentation to the new physician, the patient complained mainly of painful gynecomastia (excessive growth of breasts in a male) without galactorrhea (spontaneous flow of milk from the nipple) for the past several months. Besides some unrelated knee pain, his examination was remarkable only for bilateral tender gynecomastia. He had not undergone any endocrinological lab studies and a recent PET/CT of the head/neck/chest/abdomen/pelvis was unremarkable. Upon review of his medications, the only possible culprit was metoclopramide which had been started approximately one year prior for nausea. The nausea had since resolved but he was still taking the medication since it was prescribed on a scheduled basis. The metoclopramide was discontinued and several labs were ordered in consultation with endocrinology including testosterone, prolactin, TSH, free T4, FSH, LH, estradiol and HCG. Lab workup was largely unrevealing although most, including the prolactin level, were drawn after the metoclopramide was discontinued. Over the several months following metoclopramide discontinuation the patient’s gynecomastia resolved without any recurrence of his nausea.

Discussion

This case, although relatively simple, is important for two major reasons. First, it reminds us of a rare but significant side effect of a medicine commonly used in Palliative Care. Second, and perhaps more importantly, it highlights the dangers of polypharmacy in the Palliative Care setting.

Metoclopramide is a Dopamine type 2 (D2) receptor antagonist and is used as an antiemetic and prokinetic agent. In addition to these effects, it also reliably increases prolactin levels through its action on the D2 receptor. Dopamine normally inhibits pituitary secretion of prolactin. Metoclopramide administration blocks this inhibition resulting in increased prolactin levels.1 This effect has been used as both a research tool and as a clinical test. Symptomatic gynecomastia from elevated prolactin in patients taking metoclopramide, however, is rare, although it has been reported.² Galactorrhea has also been reported. In fact, metoclopramide has been used to augment lactation in breast-feeding women.³ Upon serologic testing, prolactin levels will generally be elevated in metoclopramideinduced gynecomastia. Discontinuation of the drug generally results in resolution of the symptoms.

Since metoclopramide is generally considered a first line antiemetic and is frequently used in clinical Palliative Care practice, this case serves as useful reminder of this rare but significant side effect. The equally or more important message from this case, however, is the need for careful medication management in this vulnerable population.⁴ Going back to Cicely Saunders, one of the guiding principles of Palliative Care is the scheduled administration of medications to provide continuous symptom control. Recent literature reinforces this concept in the management of nausea and vomiting.⁵ In addition, it is suggested to not only use scheduled antiemetics but to add second and third antiemetics as needed instead of stopping one and starting another. While this method has been shown to provide effective relief of symptoms, it can expose the patient to a high risk of side effects if the practitioner fails to taper the medications after the emetic impulse has resolved. This patient had no recurrence of his nausea with discontinuation of his metoclopramide, suggesting that he could have been spared the development of gynecomastia if the metoclopramide had been tapered earlier.

This case also reinforces one of the most basic but important principles in medicine: symptoms which emerge after initiation of a medication are most likely caused by that medication. Because of the serious and progressive nature of the illnesses encountered in Palliative Care, it can be easy to assume that all clinical deterioration is due to worsening of the underlying disease. This case reminds us of the importance of a solid understanding of medication adverse effects and the need for a constant vigilance for these outcomes. Fortunately for Mr BT, the culprit medication was discovered and the symptoms resolved with discontinuation, thereby allowing him to get back to enjoying his life after what appears to be a very successful initial treatment of his serious underlying cancer.

References:
1. Macullum RW, Sowers JR, Hershman JM, Sturdevant RAL. Metoclopramide stimulates prolactin secretion in man. J Clin Endocrinol Metab. 1976;43:1148-1152.

2. Madani S, Tolia V. Gynecomastia with metoclopramide use in pediatric patients. J Clin Gastroenterol. 1997;24:79-81.

3. Ehrenkranz RA, Ackerman BA. Metoclopramide effect on faltering milk production by mothers of premature infants. Pediatrics. 1986;78:614-620.

4. Bernard SA, Bruera E. Drug interactions in palliative care. J Clin Oncol. 2000;18:1780-1799.

5. Wood GJ, Shega JW, Lynch B, Von Roenn JH. Management of intractable nausea and vomiting at the end of life: “I was feeling nauseous all of the time…nothing was working”. JAMA. 20087;298:1196-1207

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Case:

You are asked to see Mrs. RT, a 44-year old woman with end-stage COPD. She was admitted to inpatient hospice with increased anxiety, hopelessness, and pain “all over.” She says she is tired of being sick and exhausted, and wants to be “put to sleep.” She has heard about “terminal sedation” and is angry it hasn’t been offered. She lives with her husband and adult children who work full-time and is upset they can’t all stay home with her. She experiences dyspnea with activity, and uses a wheelchair, but can independently transfer to bed and toilet. Your exam reveals she is awake and alert, neither delirious by the confusion assessment score (CAM), nor suicidal. She is cachectic, tachypnic, and has generalized muscle atrophy. She lacks signs of infection or localized pain. You estimate her prognosis in months. She takes medications erratically for symptom control.

What is Palliative Sedation Therapy (PST)?

Patients and families sometimes have heard or been told about “terminal sedation,” but it is a frequently misunderstood term and therapy. The term “terminal sedation” suggests the goal of the therapy is hastening death for terminally ill patients, when in fact the goal is symptom relief. Therefore, the term “palliative sedation therapy (PST)” is much preferred since the goal of PST is relief from intolerable and untreatable symptoms, not shortening a patient’s life. An international panel of palliative care experts recently reviewed the medical literature on PST and published their recommendations for standardizing our understanding of this therapy1. They recommend the following definition: “Palliative sedation therapy is the use of specific sedative medications to relieve intolerable suffering from refractory symptoms by a reduction in patient consciousness.” They emphasize that palliative sedation is distinct from euthanasia while acknowledging lively debate on this issue.

The panel’s position is based on their assertion that hastening a terminally ill patient’s death is not the goal of PST. Other points of difference between PST and euthanasia are the principle of titration to comfort rather than to death, and PST’s reversibility.

What are refractory symptoms?

Refractory symptoms are considered symptoms for which all possible treatments have failed. A patient experiencing refractory symptoms must be differentiated from a patient who has symptoms that are difficult to treat. Refractory symptoms are symptoms that the palliative care physician and team determine cannot safely be relieved by invasive or noninvasive interventions. Expert panel members recommend Cherney’s definition of refractory symptoms: “Refractory symptoms are symptoms for which all possible treatment has failed, or it is estimated that no other therapies exist within the patient’s time-frame or tolerable risk-benefit ratio.”

When is PST considered?

PST is considered for patients with refractory symptoms only after discussions with the patient and/or family, the caregiving team, and the palliative care expert. The most frequent reasons for PST have been refractory delirium or restlessness, dyspnea, pain, and nausea/vomiting. The use of PST or psychological or existential distress is rare, and initiated only under exceptional circumstances. PST is considered only in the last hours to days of life.

Experts recommend a systematic and inclusive process to determine if PST appropriate, which includes the patient, if possible, designated surrogate and caregivers, and addresses the patient’s values, beliefs, and goals. If PST is chosen, then the specific intervention is discussed and reviewed, instituted, and carefully monitored. Decisions about nutrition and hydration are discussed separately from the decision to offer PST.

Medications used for PST include benzodiazepines (usually midazolam), except for delirious patients, phenobarbital, or propofol. Opioids are not recommended for PST because even high doses may not result in sedation.

Since the aim of PST is the relief of refractory symptoms, doses of sedatives are carefully chosen to relieve distress by reducing a patient’s level of consciousness and are not excessive. The degree of sedation can vary from superficial to deep sedation. Initial doses of sedatives should be small enough to allow a patient to communicate periodically.

Refractory symptoms may respond to temporary sedation, since a patient’s ability to tolerate symptoms may be improved following rest provided by sedation. Experts identify three levels of continuous sedation. With mild sedation, the patient is awake, but has a lowered level of consciousness. Moderate sedation results in stupor, so that the patient is asleep, but can be awakened to communicate briefly. With deep PST, the patient is unconscious and unresponsive. PST is frequently monitored and assessed, with attention to the needs and goals of both patient and family.

Back to the Case:

You convene a meeting with the patient, her family, and the palliative care team. After asking open-ended questions and listening to concerns, you offer information about PST but say that you think her symptoms can be treated. You offer medication changes including around the- clock rather than as needed opioids for relief of dyspnea and pain, and a comprehensive treatment plan for her anxiety and depression. Her family finds ways for her to be less isolated, and the hospice team offers additional services and frequent monitoring. Although she is skeptical, she is willing to consider these options as possibly improving the quality of her life.

References:
1. De Graeff A. Dean M: Palliative Sedation Therapy in the Last Weeks of Life: A Literature Review and Recommendation for Standards. Journal of Palliative Medicine 2007; Vol10 (1); 67-84.

2. Cherny NI. Portenoy RK: Sedation in the management of refractory symptoms: guidelines for evaluation and treatment. Journal of Palliative Care 1994;10;31-38.

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Case:

JD is a 66-year-old African-American female with cardiomyopathy and pulmonary hypertension who has been in and out of the hospital for the past two years. She had biventricular assist devices placed in August, 2007. Since then, she has experienced numerous setbacks and subsequently has been on and off the heart-lung transplant list. Most recently, she went to the OR to have her current LVAD replaced with a smaller unit. The procedure was aborted.

JD is divorced with no children. Prior to hospital admission, she lived alone, independently, in a one-story home. A supportive brother and sister live nearby. She is very sharp, speaks her mind, and has no patience for what she perceives as incompetence or “stupidity.” She expects staff to communicate with her directly and has no tolerance for ambiguity, mixed messages or superficiality. She has alienated several of the staff who don’t meet her expectations.

Over the past couple years, I have visited JD numerous times. In my first visit, she told me where to sit and told me to read certain passages of Scripture to her. (She has taught adult Bible study and has been very active in her church). I went along with her request (i.e., “order,”) and we actually had a stimulating theological discussion. Our visit ended with prayer. After this first visit, she no longer told me what to do. In subsequent visits, she shared her life story. I found that gently kidding around with her diffused her intensity. We spent many visits with her telling me about her life from childhood on, and we’ve shared much laughter. I enjoyed celebrating with her those memories that gave her joy.

In the last few months, her emotional ups and downs have become more pronounced. She was focused on getting a heart-lung transplant, which turned out not to be an option. She faced a surgery with a questionable predicted outcome, knowing she might die on the operating table. That surgery ended up being aborted. I have seen her at all-time emotional lows as well as in periods of bouncing back. Spiritually, she says she knows that God is with her; she has “no doubts” about that. She also says she must make all decisions, including life and death decisions, on her own – without God’s help.

Intervention:

The anchor in all my visits with her is prayer—prayer for guidance for her in decision making, prayer that lifts all her specific concerns and joys to God. We always hold hands in prayer, which she anticipates and appreciates. The healing aspects of this relationship are consistency and love. In the time we spend together, JD has shared precious, sometimes outrageously funny memories of her life. I have lifted up these memories to God in prayer with her, sometimes in a humorous way. My hope is that rather than compartmentalizing her spirituality she will allow God more and more into her decision making, that she will let God carry the weight of her burdens. This seems to be difficult for her, since she is so fiercely independent.

More and more, she seems now to be dealing with the prospect of her earthly life ending. While she remains trapped in a failing body with future prospects dim, she is now looking at her life with a sense of “well done, thou good and faithful servant” (Matthew 25:21) which is the ultimate healing.

Discussion:

Addressing quality of life is essential for patients with prolonged hospital stays. Patients on LVADS or BIVADS are physically restricted. While the body may be restrained, the mind is free to roam. Well-being must be viewed holistically, with emotional and spiritual needs being addressed. One researcher found that patient coping strategies include family support, religious convictions, and diversional activities, and that best way to support these patients is to establish a trusting relationship, foster independence and incorporate humor into their care. (Savage)

References:

1. Savage, Laura, RN, MSN (2003) Quality of Life among Patients with a Left Ventricular Assist Device: What is New? AACN Clinical Issues 2003 Feb. 14 (1) pp.64-72.

2. Savage, Laura, RN, MSN (1999) Life With a Left Ventricular Assist Device: The Patient’s Perspective American Journal of Critical Care Vol. 5, No. 5, pp. 340-343.

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Case:

Mr. L.O. was an elderly Russian immigrant to Canada, admitted to the Palliative Care Unit of a Canadian hospital with advanced rectal cancer. When L.O. was first presented to the multidisciplinary team, his major problems were identified as persistent rectal pain and anxiety. The initial workup of the pain suggested a neuropathic component, and adjustments were made to L.O.’s medications. His complaints of pain and anxiety persisted over the next several days.

L.O. then began to experience terrifying nightmares. Even during the day, when he was awake, he would have what he called “flashes” of frightening imagery, but the nightmares were the worst. L.O. was so fearful of them that he resisted falling asleep as much as he could. The images were horrific, often violent, with L.O. sometimes being the victim of the violence, sometimes the perpetrator. A CT scan was ordered to investigate the possibility of brain metastases as a contributing factor.

At the same time, the attending palliative care physician had a long interview with L.O., in which they explored the content of the nightmares in depth. L.O. was an amateur artist, and the physician suggested that he might sketch the images in his dreams, or, if not the exact images, some rendering of how they made him feel. L.O. did this. Subsequent conversations revealed that L.O. was estranged from his children; the main reason that he needed to be in the Palliative Care Unit was that none of his children cared enough about him to support him while he lived at home. L.O.’s sketches showed a small figure—himself—cowering at the bottom of a deep pit, with another figure standing far above, looking down.

The physician suggested that L.O., who had become physically well enough for a weekend pass, bring some of his previous paintings back with him to the Palliative Care Unit. Within a few days, the sound of hammering could be heard from L.O’s room. He was hanging his pictures, 15 or 20 in all. Most were landscapes, but there were also a portrait of a lovely young woman, and a winter scene, all in black and silvery white, of a snow- and ice-lined brook leading into a dark woods. The next morning L.O. reported that he had dreamed of eating a chicken dinner.

Discussion:

Two features of this case are striking. The first is the necessity of combining medical and psychosocial approaches to L.O.’s nightmares and overwhelming anxiety. Both the CT scan and several psychoactive medications were appropriate and helpful. But it was the in-depth exploration of the content of the imagery, and even more, the suggestion that L.O. use his art to capture his emotional state in drawings, that appeared to unlock the insights and emotions that lay beneath the anxiety and terror. The physician succeeded in helping L.O. find a language to express himself more effectively and concretely than he had been able to do at a purely verbal level. The physician found a form of expression that “fit” the patient, even though that form was somewhat unconventional.

The second feature concerns the possibility of creating a living space in the Palliative Care Unit where L.O. could work his way to a feeling of peace and safety, despite his estrangement. This use of the inpatient palliative care service would almost certainly be impossible in the United States, with our minimal lengths of stay and our restrictive utilization review requirements. L.O. died in this Canadian palliative care unit many days after his physical and emotional symptoms had been brought firmly under control. But the inpatient environment remained critical to his spiritual well-being. Even though the Canadian health care system faces some of the same economic pressures as that in the U.S., the possibility still exists there for more flexibility to respond to the broadest range of patient or family need, compared to the limits imposed by hospice and palliative care financing in the U.S.

References:

1. Pratt A, Wood M (eds). Art Therapy in Palliative Care. London: Routledge, 1998.

2. Lynn J. Serving patients who may die soon and their families: The role of hospice and other services. JAMA, 2001, 285:925-932. (No open access pdf)

3. Raphael C, Ahrens J, Fowler N. Financing end-of-life care in the USA. Journal of the Royal Society of Medicine, 2001, 94:458-461. (Open access PDF avail from Journal and PubMed Central)

(CS: Minor formatting edits for readability)

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Case:

Mr. C, a 68 year old widower with an implantable cardioverter-defibrillator (ICD) placed five years previously, was admitted to the hospital after his ICD discharged several times in one day. Each discharge was associated with severe pain, loss of consciousness, and heightened anxiety about experiencing future discharges. Evaluation of the ICD firing confirmed refractory ventricular tachyarrhythmias consistent with Mr. C.’s end-stage heart failure. Trials of anti-arrhythmic medications proved unsuccessful. The frequency of ICD discharges could not be reduced without deactivating the device (which would cause imminent death), yet leaving the ICD active would prolong Mr. C’s suffering.

When his primary medical team informed him about his medical condition and prognosis, Mr. C showed ambivalence about deactivating his ICD. He clearly stated to his health care team that he “did not want to live under these circumstances” and that “shutting off this pacemaker may be the best thing for me.” However, he did not like being left alone for fear his heart would stop and no one would be available to resuscitate him. His primary medical team consulted the Palliative Care Team (PCT) to discuss end-of-life options and goals with the patient and family. The PCT treated Mr. C’s anxiety with clonazepam and relaxation training, “supported” his ambivalence, and assisted with his discharge planning.

As the PCT continued working with Mr. C, it became apparent that Mr. C experienced tremendous remorse for “what I put my family through 20 years ago after my wife died.” Although his family openly stated that all was forgiven, Mr. C could not accept their reassurances – “I wish I could make it up to them.” The PCT initiated an intervention where Mr. C talked about his family members one at a time, and he described his happiest memory, what he appreciated, and what he loved about each one. His thoughts were written down, and the family was trained to continue the exercise until all family members were done. Mr. C was discharged with home hospice, and his family completed the PCT intervention at home. The day after Mr. C finished his individualized sentiments, he requested to have his ICD turned off. A representative from the ICD manufacturer came to Mr. C’s home and deactivated the ICD. Mr. C died two hours later in the comfort of his home and surrounded by his family.

Discussion:

ICDs are used to treat people at risk for sudden death due to ventricular tachycardia or ventricular fibrillation. They deliver an electrical charge to the myocardium during an arrhythmic event, and the “shock” allows the ventricle to resume a normal rhythm1. ICDs allow many people to enjoy a prolonged life without significant compromise to quality of life, but in cases of end-stage heart disease ICDs can cause significant physical suffering simply by doing their “job” - repeatedly normalizing arrhythmic events. Patient quality of life is further compromised by the severe anxiety associated with the fear of receiving a future shock2.

For patients with end-stage heart disease, deactivating the ICD can be a sound medical, ethical, and legal decision for them - albeit a difficult one. For Mr. C, his ambivalence about turning off his ICD was driven by his need for reconciliation with his family. Once this was achieved he calmly and peacefully made his decision to die. His case suggests that end-of-life decision making can be difficult for patients, and they may need time and guidance in completing their relationships with their loved ones before they can make the medical decision that is best for them.

ICDs can be deactivated in different ways depending on the urgency of the situation. In cases requiring immediate action (e.g., a patient is actively dying of end-stage cancer and his ICD fires causing the patient to go into convulsions), pacemaker magnets placed over the device deactivate it within seconds. In less urgent cases, the manufacturer and/or the electrophysiology service can assist with ICD deactivation. For patients at the end-of-life, turning off an ICD is similar to withdrawing a ventilator: the patient (or surrogate) has elected for comfort measures in lieu of aggressive medical care.

References:

1. Braun, TC, Hagen, NA, Hatfield, RE, Wyse, DG (1999). Cardiac pacemakers and implantable defibrillators in terminal care. Journal of Pain and Symptom Management, 18, 126-131. (No open access PDF)

2. Dunbar, SB, Warner, CD, Purcell, JA (1993). Internal cardioverter debrillator device discharge: Experiences of patients and family members. Heart Lung, 22, 494-501. (Open access PDF)

3. Quill, TE (1996). A midwife through the dying process: stories of healing and hard choices at the end of life. Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press.