"We have two options, medically and emotionally: give up or fight like hell." -Lance ArmstrongIf cancer is a battle and treatment is the weapon, then what happens when the war ends and it is time to stop treatment? As authors Morgans and Schapira note, with many solid tumors, that time will come: when further cancer treatment is, at best, futile and, at worst, toxic and life threatening [1]. As oncologists, many of us feel that it is our job to "win" by "beating the cancer" and prolonging life, no matter what the cost. Using the war analogy, the oncologist is the opposing general, the strategist, and the one holding the secret weapons. Played to the end, it means that giving up on treatment is just that: surrendering. Our patients use this metaphor often when they ask us not to give up, to keep trying, to keep fighting."We cannot direct the wind but we can adjust the sails." -AnonymousAs physicians, we know that we cannot always win the war against an individual's cancer. We also know that stopping cancer treatment does not mean we stop treating the patient. In fact, stopping cancer treatment can be liberating.We are no longer focusing our attention solely on the cancer, but instead are refocusing on the patient, her quality of life and symptom management, and her personal goals of care. Studies have shown that when we do this, when we focus on those aspects of palliative care medicine that encompass all domains of life, our patients live longer and better [2]. Then, why is it so hard for us as physicians to admit that the treatment is no longer working and it is time to stop active cancer treatment and segue into palliative care?Medical oncologists are not alone facing this question. Surgical oncologists also have a difficult time with this concept. Surgeons take pride in their technical skill in fixing problems, and we spend years training to be technical experts. Gynecologic oncologists, for example, take pride in their ability to optimally cytoreduce an ovarian cancer patient with advanced disease; there is something very gratifying about having the technical expertise to successfully remove all cancer in a complex operation, thereby providing the patient a survival advantage. On the other hand, there is nothing worse than having to tell a patient and her family that the surgery was unsuccessful: the tumor could not be removed; the bowel obstruction could not be fixed; there was nothing we could do.The inability to remove all tumor, even in the setting of exceptional surgical skill, feels like the ultimate failure.Morgans and Schapira do an excellent job of summarizing the key points of the SPIKES (setting, perception, invitation for information, knowledge, empathy, summarize and strategize) protocol, which is a tool designed to help oncologists structure discussions with patients at the end of treatment [3]. The authors also describe how these conversations can be difficult to both initiate and conduct well, and can be significantly tainted by our own emotions. The guilt that we feel over our "failure" to c...