She was in the intensive care unit, overwhelmed by infection from wounds she acquired from immobility and poor nutrition. Suffering from a progressive neurological condition at a young age, she was bed bound and relied on her partner as her primary caretaker. Her neurological condition left her unable to speak or swallow. She received all her nutrition through a tube in her stomach. Given her deteriorating condition, I was called in to help establish her goals of care.

Amy was able to communicate by writing. She shared with me that her goal was to return home to the care of her partner. Given her poor condition, I had to ask if she felt safe and well cared for as it appeared that she was anything but well cared for. She described her partner as a “good” caregiver when their mood was good, which occurred about 85-90% of the time. When they were in a bad mood, they would abuse her both physically and sexually. She shared that at times she would awaken to unspeakable acts of abuse that they would later ask her forgiveness for. As she shared her story, I could not fathom why on earth this woman would choose to return to that situation. And so, I asked her why. Her answer was simple. “My cat is there. He is the one thing that still brings me joy. And even though my partner hurts me, it is at least better than being homeless.”

Admittedly, this was such a difficult thing for me to understand. I have never been homeless. Nor have I been in an abusive relationship. I have never been trapped in my body, reliant on others for all my needs.  Who am I to measure the quality of another person’s life? To quantify their suffering? I simply cannot. As a palliative care clinician that is not my role. The love and companionship she received from her cat outweighed the pain and suffering she experienced at the hand of her caregiver. I would like to tell you that Amy was reunited with her cat. To be honest, I don’t know. I do know that she was discharged to a safe place, where her partner could no longer hurt her.