Commentary

Disenfranchised grief: What it looks like, where it goes


 

A space for grieving: The Schwartz Center Rounds

Disenfranchised grief, the grief that is hard to share and often seems wrong to feel in the first place, can be triggered in many situations. Losing a person others don’t believe deserve to be grieved, such as an abusive partner or someone who committed a crime; losing someone you cared for in a professional role; a loss experienced in a breakup or same-sex partnership, if that relationship was not accepted by one’s family; loss from infertility, miscarriage, stillbirth, or failed adoption; loss that may be taboo or stigmatized, such as deaths via suicide or abortion; and loss of a job, home, or possession that you treasure.

Many of us have had similar situations or will, and the feeling that no one understands the need to mourn can be paralyzing and alienating. In the early days, intense, crushing feelings can cause intrusive, distracting thoughts, and over time, that grief can linger and find a permanent place in our minds.

More and more, though, we are being given opportunities to reflect on these sad moments.

The Schwartz Rounds are an example of such an opportunity. In these rounds, we gather to talk about the experience of caring for people, not the science of medicine.

During one particularly powerful rounds, I spoke to my colleagues about my initial meeting with a patient who was very sick. I detailed the experience of telling her children and her at that initial consult how I thought she was dying and that I did not recommend therapy. I remember how they cried. And I remembered how powerless I felt.

As I recalled that memory during Schwartz Rounds, I could not stop from crying. The unfairness of being a physician meeting someone for the first time and having to tell them such bad news overwhelmed me.

Even more poignant, I had the chance to reconnect with this woman’s children, who were present that day, not as audience members but as participants. Their presence may have brought my emotions to the surface more strongly. In that moment, I could show them the feelings I had bottled up for the sake of professionalism. Ultimately, I felt relieved, freer somehow, as if this burden my soul was carrying had been lifted.

Although we are both grateful for forums like this, these opportunities to share and express the grief we may have hidden away are not as common as they should be.

As physicians, we may express grief by shedding tears at the bedside of a patient nearing the end of life or through the anxiety we feel when our patient suffers a severe reaction to treatment. But we tend to put it away, to go on with our day, because there are others to be seen and cared for and more work to be done. Somehow, we move forward, shedding tears in one room and celebrating victories in another.

We need to create more spaces to express and feel grief, so we don’t get lost in it. Because understanding how grief impacts us, as people and as providers, is one of the most important realizations we can make as we go about our time-honored profession as healers.

Dr. Dizon is the director of women’s cancers at Lifespan Cancer Institute, director of medical oncology at Rhode Island Hospital, and a professor of medicine at Brown University, all in Providence. He reported conflicts of interest with Regeneron, AstraZeneca, Clovis, Bristol-Myers Squibb, and Kazia.

A version of this article first appeared on Medscape.com.

Pages

Next Article: