I knew from last night's house call that my patient Bessie's time was near. All day long I'd felt the familiar churning inside, the sickly sweet combination of anticipated dread and anticipated relief. So when the phone rang while I was exercising at home, I wasn't surprised. I quickly dropped the barbell weights to answer the call before it went to voice mail. It was Bessie's daughter, Susan. "Mom is gone," she ...

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