When Doctors Grieve

COMMENTARY — Leeat Granek

MY mother died of breast cancer in 2005 after living with the disease for nearly 20 years. Her oncologist, whom I knew from the time I was 9 years old, was her doctor for most of that time. I practically grew up in the hospital, and my family felt quite close to the health care providers, especially the oncologist. After my mother died I wondered if the feeling was mutual.

Do doctors grieve when their patients die? In the medical profession, such grief is seldom discussed — except, perhaps, as an example of the sort of emotion that a skilled doctor avoids feeling. But in a paper published on Tuesday in Archives of Internal Medicine (and in a forthcoming paper in the journal Death Studies), my colleagues and I report what we found in our research about oncologists and patient loss: Not only do doctors experience grief, but the professional taboo on the emotion also has negative consequences for the doctors themselves, as well as for the quality of care they provide.

Our study took place from 2010 to 2011 in three Canadian hospitals. We recruited and interviewed 20 oncologists who varied in age, sex and ethnicity and had a wide range of experience in the field — from a year and a half in practice in the case of oncology fellows to more than 30 years in the case of senior oncologists. Using a qualitative empirical method known as grounded theory, we analyzed the data by systematically coding each interview transcript line by line for themes and then comparing the findings from each interview across all interviews to see which themes stood out most robustly.

We found that oncologists struggled to manage their feelings of grief with the detachment they felt was necessary to do their job. More than half of our participants reported feelings of failure, self-doubt, sadness and powerlessness as part of their grief experience, and a third talked about feelings of guilt, loss of sleep and crying.

Our study indicated that grief in the medical context is considered shameful and unprofessional. Even though participants wrestled with feelings of grief, they hid them from others because showing emotion was considered a sign of weakness. In fact, many remarked that our interview was the first time they had been asked these questions or spoken about these emotions at all.

The impact of all this unacknowledged grief was exactly what we don’t want our doctors to experience: inattentiveness, impatience, irritability, emotional exhaustion and burnout.

Even more distressing, half our participants reported that their discomfort with their grief over patient loss could affect their treatment decisions with subsequent patients — leading them, for instance, to provide more aggressive chemotherapy, to put a patient in a clinical trial, or to recommend further surgery when palliative care might be a better option. One oncologist in our study remarked: “I see an inability sometimes to stop treatment when treatment should be stopped. When treatment’s futile, when it’s clearly futile.” From a policy standpoint, this is an especially worrisome finding, given the disproportionately high percentage of heath care budgets spent on end-of-life care.

Unease with losing patients also affected the doctors’ ability to communicate about end-of-life issues with patients and their families. Half of our participants said they distanced themselves and withdrew from patients as the patients got closer to dying. This meant fewer visits in the hospital, fewer bedside visits and less overall effort directed toward the dying patient.

It’s worth stressing that most physicians want what is best for their patients and that the outcome of any medical intervention is often unknown. It’s also worth noting that oncologists and other physicians who are dealing with end-of-life issues are right to put up some emotional boundaries: no one wants their doctor to be walking around openly grief-stricken.

But our research indicates that grief is having a negative impact on oncologists’ personal lives and that there is a troubling relationship between doctors’ discomfort with death and grief and how patients and their families are treated. Oncologists are not trained to deal with their own grief, and they need to be. In addition to providing such training, we need to normalize death and grief as a natural part of life, especially in medical settings.

To improve the quality of end-of-life care for patients and their families, we also need to improve the quality of life of their physicians, by making space for them to grieve like everyone else.

Leeat Granek is a health psychologist and a postdoctoral fellow at the Hospital for Sick Children in Toronto.

Complete Article HERE!

The Archbishop of York and Assisted Dying

COMMENTARY (Campaign for Dignity in Dying)

The Archbishop of York has been talking about the medicalisation of dying and that, as a society, we seem to have lost the ability to prepare for the end in the Telegraph. On this I agree. More does need to be done around ensuring we are as involved as possible in our deaths, this could include making an Advance Decision and making sure you’ve discussed them with your healthcare team and family.

However, what I do have issue with is the way he implies that assisted dying in the UK would be an alternative to good quality care. We campaign for the legalization of assisted dying as a safeguarded choice for terminally ill adults who meet strict criteria – it would not be available as an option for disabled or chronically ill adults who wanted to end their life, nor would it be an alternative to – or negatively impact on – supportive and palliative care.

Evidence from Oregon, where assisted dying for terminally ill adults with mental capacity was legalized in 1997, demonstrates that lack of palliative care is not a motivation for requesting assisted dying. Nearly 100% of patients who have had an assisted death were enrolled in hospice care at the time of their death and reasons for wanting assistance to die focus on autonomy and quality of life issues, rather than pain control and feeling like a burden on family. Importantly in Oregon, there has been no negative impact on end-of-life care in general and hospice care continues to get better and Oregon is fifth in terms of access and spread of hospices.

Similarly, in 2011 the European Association for Palliative Care produced a research report which concluded that palliative care in countries with legalised assistance to die practices (primarily the Netherlands and Belgium, both of which practice voluntary euthanasia for terminally and chronically ill patients – which is wider than what Dignity in Dying campaigns for) is no less well developed than in comparator countries where there is no such legislation.

The argument that the Archbishop makes about celebrating and living life to the full and that a good death is also part of a good life do not run counter to the arguments for assisted dying. Allowing safeguarded choice on the end of your life if you have a terminal illness means allowing peace of mind and control over your situation and allowing you emotional comfort in your last weeks or months (in Oregon approximately 40% of patients who request assisted dying, pass the safeguards and get the life-ending medication do not take the medication – rather they see it as an emotional insurance).

So, whilst the general statements by the Archbishop around needing to embrace the dying process as a necessary part of life are to be applauded, perhaps he needs to check the facts before making statements about the impact of assisted dying on quality of care. Many people talk about death and dying because they talk about assisted dying. Rather than attacking those who support a change, those strongly opposed should acknowledge common-ground and seek to work together for much needed improvements.

Complete Article HERE!