A Sunken Spirit

June 2026 | Vol. 70, No. 2
By Melissa P. Broyles, DO, PCOM '97

A panicked voice cries out from bed A: “I need a doctor. I need a doctor. My body is shrinking.” There lies an eighty-eight-year-old, cachectic woman, fully dressed, with her head at the foot of the bed, staring at the ceiling framed by four blank walls. She pleads with me to examine her, hastily removing her red turtleneck sweater as I draw the dividing curtain. I quickly realize this is Ms. Mosley - the same woman who has been refusing to take her sertraline. After examining her, I clear the clutter from the bedside chair, her only companion.

Ms. Mosley understood her illness well. She had chosen not to pursue aggressive treatment for her cancer and had been on hospice-level care for the past six months. As I sit beside her, I ask the quintessential question: “How would you like to spend whatever time you have left on this earth?” Her sunken eyes meet mine, and after a long pause, she replies softly, “No one has ever asked me that question before.” Then, with conviction, she quickly declares, “I want to glorify God!”

Ms. Mosley had dedicated her life to missionary work, traveling to parts of the world she once never knew existed. Now, however, she finds herself isolated in a world that is all too familiar, too mundane—too small. Just as the position of her head in bed has been reversed, so too has her reality. Yet one thing remains unchanged: her heart. Though her body is dying, her soul is very much alive. Her deepest longing is to glorify God, but trapped within the confines of her new reality, she struggles to find a way. Chronic intestinal issues prevent her from attending chapel or visiting other residents. Her partial blindness makes reading her Bible nearly impossible. Even prayer and reflection become difficult, drowned out by the blaring television of her roommate.

Then, a simple solution—a five-dollar radio and a set of headphones—offers her a solace that no dose of sertraline ever could. It reconnects her to the faith that has guided her life, offering a way to glorify God and lift her sunken spirit. Too often in medicine, we rush to manage symptoms without first asking what gives our patients meaning. If we truly aim to provide compassionate end-of-life care, spiritual inquiry should not be an afterthought; it should be as intentional as any treatment plan we prescribe.