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Christina Nicolaidis, MD, MPH
Portland, Oregon
nicolaid@ohsu.edu

JAMA. 2006;296:907-908.

	Since this article does not have an abstract, we have provided the first 150 words of the full text and any section headings.

My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer in 1992, when she was 49 years old and I was a fourth-year medical student. "You will be a doctor," she said. "You have to promise me, when the time comes, that you will give me something to end my life. If you love me, you won't let me suffer." I was horrified to hear these words. "But Mµ', how can you ask me to do that? You know I can’t," I responded, tears running down my face. Little did I know what the next 13 years would bring.

The first few years after her diagnosis, when my mother met a new doctor, I would always warn: "She is a fantastic mother, but a terrible patient." Physicians who wanted her to do things their way couldn't stand her. She didn't listen to their treatment recommendations. She didn't . . . [Full Text of this Article]