Despite his reputation, Dr. Lown was treated like just another widget on the hospital’s conveyor belt. “Each day, one person on the medical team would say one thing in the morning, and by the afternoon the plan had changed,” he later told me. “I always was the last to know what exactly was going on, and my opinion hardly mattered.”

What he needed was “the feeling of being a major partner in this decision,” he said. “Even though I am a doctor, I am still a human with anxieties.”

The medical team was concerned that because Dr. Lown was having trouble swallowing, he was at risk for recurrent pneumonias. So we restricted his diet to purées. Soon the speech therapist recommended that we forbid him to ingest anything by mouth. Then the conversation spiraled into ideas for alternative feeding methods — a temporary tube through the nose followed, perhaps, by a feeding tube in the stomach.

“Doctors no longer minister to a distinctive person but concern themselves with fragmented, malfunctioning” body parts, Dr. Lown wrote in “The Lost Art of Healing.” Now, two decades later, he’d become a victim of exactly what he had warned against.

As the intern and the perpetrator of the orders, I felt impossibly torn and terribly guilty. So after Dr. Lown was discharged the next week, I kept in touch, hoping to continue this important conversation.

We have since spent time together at his home, where he is back to living peacefully and swallowing carefully (no alternative feeding methods necessary).

I had known Dr. Lown as a doctor and a patient; now I got to know him as an activist. We agreed that the health care system needed to change. To do that, Dr. Lown said, “doctors of conscience” have to “resist the industrialization of their profession.”