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The role of spirituality in health care
Christina M. Puchalski, MD, MS1
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The technological advances of the past century tended to change the focus of medicine from a caring, service oriented model to a technological, cure-oriented model. Technology has led to phenomenal advances in medicine and has given us the ability to prolong life. However, in the past few decades physicians have attempted to balance their care by reclaiming medicine’s more spiritual roots, recognizing that until modern times spirituality was often linked with health care. Spiritual or compassionate care involves serving the whole person—the physical, emotional, social, and spiritual. Such service is inherently a spiritual activity. Rachel Naomi Remen, MD, who has developed Commonweal retreats for people with cancer, described it well:
Helping, fixing, and serving represent three different ways of seeing life. When you help, you see life as weak. When you fix, you see life as broken. When you serve, you see life as whole. Fixing and helping may be the work of the ego, and service the work of the soul ( 1 ).
Serving patients may involve spending time with them, holding their hands, and talking about what is important to them. Patients value these experiences with their physicians. In this article, I discuss elements of compassionate care, review some research on the role of spirituality in health care, highlight advantages of understanding patients’ spirituality, explain ways to practice spiritual care, and summarize some national efforts to incorporate spirituality into medicine.
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COMPASSIONATE CARE: HELPING PATIENTS FIND MEANING IN THEIR SUFFERING AND ADDRESSING THEIR SPIRITUALITY
The word compassion means “to suffer with.” Compassionate care calls physicians to walk with people in the midst of their pain, to be partners with patients rather than experts dictating information to them.
Victor Frankl, a psychiatrist who wrote of his experiences in a Nazi concentration camp, wrote: “Man is not destroyed by suffering; he is destroyed by suffering without meaning” (2). One of the challenges physicians face is to help people find meaning and acceptance in the midst of suffering and chronic illness. Medical ethicists have reminded us that religion and spirituality form the basis of meaning and purpose for many people (3). At the same time, while patients struggle with the physical aspects of their disease, they have other pain as well: pain related to mental and spiritual suffering, to an inability to engage the deepest questions of life. Patients may be asking questions such as the following: Why is this happening to me now? What will happen to me after I die? Will my family survive my loss? Will I be missed? Will I be remembered? Is there a God? If so, will he be there for me? Will I have time to finish my life’s work? One physician who worked in the pediatric intensive care unit told me about his panic when his patients’ parents posed such questions. It is difficult to know what to say; there are no real answers. Nevertheless, people long for their physicians as well as their families and friends to sit with them and support them in their struggle. True healing requires answers to these questions (3). Cure is not possible for many illnesses, but I firmly believe that there is always room for healing. Healing can be experienced as acceptance of illness and peace with one’s life. This healing, I believe, is at its core spiritual.
Two examples illustrate ways to deal with questions related to meaning in life. Many studies have shown that people desire to be remembered (4). Some wish to fulfill this desire through their family, and others through their life’s accomplishments or impact. One of my patients has had ovarian cancer for 7½ years. Recently, the cancer metastasized and is no longer as responsive to chemotherapy. She has been involved in lecturing to a class of my medical students for a 2-week period each semester, talking about medical care from a patient’s perspective. Now that she is facing the end of her life, she is determined to continue those lectures; she finds purpose in the significant impact they have had on future physicians. Her treatment team was able to work around certain therapeutic protocols to enable her to achieve her dreams and goals. Another patient was dying of breast and ovarian cancer in her early 30s, and she was depressed. Antidepressants weren’t helping. Through talking with her, I understood the cause of her suffering: a fear that her 2-year-old daughter would not remember her. I suggested that she keep a journal to leave to her daughter; the hospice nurses videotaped her messages to her children. These activities helped resolve her depression.
Erik Erikson has written about certain developmental tasks that he suggests children, adolescents, and adults need to accomplish as part of the normal developmental and maturing process (5). Spirituality has been recognized by many authors as an integral developmental task for those who are dying (6, 7). Unfortunately, people who are dying are often ignored. DNR—do not resuscitate—is often interpreted as “do not round.” As these patients deal with issues of transcendence, they need someone to be present with them and support them in this process. We need to advocate for systems of care in which that can happen.
Attending the dying patient is an important experience for physicians as well. In an article entitled “When mortality calls, don’t hang up,” Sally Leighton wrote: “The physician will do better to be close by to tune in carefully on what may be transpiring spiritually, both in order to comfort the dying and to broaden his or her own understanding of life at its ending” (8). One Baylor nurse I spoke with said that her patients give back 400% more than she gives them. I have to echo that sentiment. Being in the presence of people who are struggling and are able to transcend suffering and pain and see life in
