“You have two months left to live.” The doctor delivered the words with a steel, monotone voice without looking up from his computer. If my uncle wasn’t paying attention, he wouldn’t have realized he was just diagnosed with Stage IV throat cancer. After typing a note, the doctor told my uncle his only option was palliative care. He wished my uncle the best, and left. The appointment lasted five minutes. My uncle went home distraught, in part because of the sudden realization he didn’t have long to live, but more so because he didn’t feel he was treated as a human.