Retired physician Larry Larsen’s path to medicine started
with a pause. It was 1979, and he was a grad student making his way from Denver
to St. Louis to begin study at St. Louis University School of Medicine. He and
his wife, Jeanne, packed up their few belongings and headed down the stairs of the
spartan three-story apartment building they’d called home. Before stepping out the door, Larry stopped. His thought, one that would reverberate off
the halls of his experience years later, was: “I hope I don’t ever get to a place in life
where I can’t get back to this.”
Larry’s medical studies, through service in the U.S. Army,
led him from St. Louis to an internship and residency through William Beaumont
Army Medical Center in El Paso, Texas (1983-86), and then on to one year of internal
medicine at Ft. Ord, Calif. Having
completed a PhD in pathology prior to medical school, he was interested in a
fellowship where he could apply that background. In 1987, he began a sub-specialty
Allergy-Immunology Fellowship at Fitzsimons Army Hospital in Denver and then served
as staff in the Fitzsimons allergy training program. He worked for two years in
private practice in Denver and then moved to Salt Lake City in 1995 to pursue an
opportunity in clinical research.
In 2004, at 54 years of age, Larry was diagnosed with
prostate cancer. This diagnosis, and the
treatment and course which followed, has had a profound influence on his point
of view and course in life. Initial treatment included a robotic prostatectomy,
new at the time. PSA (prostate-specific antigen) levels showed recurrence of
the tumor in 2006.
In 2007, Larry left Salt Lake City and the field of medicine
(he doesn’t like titles or the word “retire”), and he and Jeanne returned to
Denver to be near family.
“Something was
bothering me,” he says. ” I wanted to be able to close my eyes and feel good
about my life in my last days.”
THROUGH HIS CAREER, he explains, he had lost sight of his original
ideal: living a simple, non-presumptuous life. He decided to take a CNA class.
(He found it one of the most enjoyable times of his life.) He also decided to
volunteer for hospice.
“We happened to live by Broomfield Hospice, so I went in,
looked around and applied for the volunteer program.” Larry wanted to continue
volunteering when he and his wife moved to south Denver. He had heard good things about Agape Hospice
and resumed his role with Agape.
Larry says he doesn’t let his professional background
“interfere” with his role as volunteer.
“I'VE LEARNED WHAT'S IMPORTANT for patients are the everyday little necessities. Their days are made
better through small intentions: making sure they have a nice bed, combing or
brushing their hair, sitting and talking with them.” When patients aren’t
feeling their best, he notes, a foot rub or basic care provided by CNAs makes a
significant impact.
“I’ve realized how hard the CNA job is, and undervalued,” he
says. “When I started in hospice, I thought, ‘I’d really like to help the
nurses and CNAs, make their days easier.’”
Larry has been surprised and challenged by volunteering. He
tells the story of a patient, just 20 years old, who had bone cancer. She was
reliant on others to take care of her needs.
“I was bringing a lunch tray into her room when I first saw
her. I walked in the door, and I almost had to take a step back,” he says. “She
looked like a 12 year old. Her clothes were pink, and there were shawls and hats
with pink feathers. It didn’t look like the typical 20-year-old’s room. This
was a person who was denied a lot.”
He knew she had started treatment young, missing out on her young
adult days. She had coordination problems and found it difficult to handle
utensils. Larry tried to help her, and the young woman began to cry, saying,
“Let me do this.”
“That was a deep experience. I hadn’t listened to her wish
for independence,” he says. “That is one I’ll never forget.”
Larry explains that one of the most important things he has
learned from volunteer classes about hospice, or practicing any kind of
medicine, is, “It’s not about me.”
“When you enter someone’s door, you leave all your personal
baggage and judgments outside. You take them for who they are. This is easy to
say, but not always easy to do,” he says.
HE ALSO HAS A KEEN AWARENESS of the need for psychological
help when people are facing serious illness or the end of life—and the stigma still
associated with seeking mental health services.
“People have to be
made aware that there is nothing wrong with it. If you’re willing to take care
of your diabetes, it’s no less important to take care of your psychological
health. Patients and family may need counseling or medication (even temporary).
Because being close to death, things may open up in your life that have been
suppressed.”
Larry recalls a woman in her 70’s, “very kind,” who was in
her last days of life. She had been married to an abusive husband who, by her
account, had made her life miserable. She hadn’t spoken about this with anyone.
Sitting with “Dr. Larsen,” hospice volunteer, gave her the opportunity to tell
an important part of her story, “to get it out into the open.”
Getting to what's most important starts with a pause. Larry began anti-androgen therapy in 2013 and continues with
this treatment today.
“Because I value quality over quantity of life, I have not
pursued any additional therapy, such as chemotherapy or radiation, as I don’t
favor the risk-benefit value there—though radiation has come a long way since I
was what I consider a reasonable candidate for it,” he explains. He is quick to
say this is a personal decision for each individual to make.
“Anti-androgen
therapy is not a cure and gradually the cancer cells out-smart it, which is
becoming so in my case. And that’s okay,” he says. “My work with hospice staff
and volunteers keeps reminding me that it’s not about me.”
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