he Palliative community gets its fair share of bouquets and brickbats, and one frequent jibe is we cannot even decide what to call ourselves. Hospice or Palliative or both? What’s the difference? Naming practice varies from country to country (more about that later), and has been influenced by how palliative care developed, and linguistic and cultural mores.
International bodies like the APHN and WHPCA—the Asia Pacific Hospice Palliative Care Network and Worldwide Hospice Palliative Care Alliance—include both terms. In Singapore, the convention is that “hospice” refers to community-based organisations, and “palliative” to the specialty practice and hospital-based departments and services. We consider the approach to be similar and often use the term interchangeably, but that is not the case in many countries.
In the United States of America for example, “hospice” describes a specific model of care that is Medicare-funded, largely home-based, and requires a doctor to certify that a patient has 90 or fewer days to live. It also requires the cessation of disease-directed treatment, for example, no further chemotherapy for cancer. Therefore, the idea of a hospice in the USA is very much associated with end of life care, so much so that proponents of palliative care have taken pains to distinguish themselves from hospice care.
It gets even more confusing when one considers that different Chinese-speaking dominions have their own terms as shown in the box below.
China
姑息治疗
(this is the term adopted by
the World Health Organization)
Hong Kong
临终关怀
Taiwan
安宁照顾
Singapore
慈怀疗护
Some of these terms have unfortunate meanings, for example 姑息 suggests “withering”, or “do nothing”; and 临终 means “near the end”.
Of course, it will be clear by now that a lot of this is a reaction—and a very normal human one—to the association of words like “hospice” with illness, dying and death.
But first, a brief history lesson on the origins of the terms…
The term Hospice derives from hospitium, and the same Latin root, hospes, gave rise to words like hospital, hotel, hostel and hospitality. The earliest hospitals in Middle Ages Europe were run by religious orders and offered refuge to travellers, some of whom were pilgrims who had travelled long distances under arduous conditions. The monks and nuns provided food and lodging, protection and whatever care they could, and this spirit of charitable whole-person care was a strong influence in the development of the hospice services in many countries, including Singapore.
Palliative derives from the terms pallium and palliare, meaning “to cloak”. To understand the origin of this term, we must go back 50 years to 1970’s Canada, where a urology cancer surgeon named Balfour Mount attended a discussion on Elizabeth Kubler-Ross’ seminal book “On Death and Dying”, and after visiting St Christopher’s Hospice in London, returned to the Royal Victoria Hospital in Montreal to set up the first palliative care ward.
He coined the term “palliative care” and is considered the father of the discipline in Canada. Why was a new term needed? This was because in Francophone regions, the term hospice was closely associated with charity poorhouses, where the destitute and indigent would go. It is somewhat ironical then, that over the decades, palliative care or soins palliatif has acquired some negative associations of its own.
So what can we do about ‘branding’ hospice and palliative care so that it is more acceptable? One way is to call it something else. Studies across different countries have shown that patients find the term “supportive care” more acceptable, and an oft-quoted 2011 paper from MD Anderson Cancer Center described how changing the name of the service from Palliative to Supportive Care, resulted in an increase in referrals.
Other services have followed suit and changed the name totally, or to “Supportive and Palliative Care”. I must admit to being in two minds about this. If we are not careful, the ‘bad press’ and misunderstanding about palliative care would eventually affect supportive care too, and how often can we go hunting for more palatable-sounding names? Surely the more sustainable response is to educate people about what palliative care is and is not, and ensure that we really do what we say we do.
The meanings of words and the ideas associated with them can, and do, change over time. Take the word “apathy”, which in ancient Greek times, meant “free of passions” or “free of suffering”, what we would today understand as equanimity. But nowadays, apathy is likened to indifference and has a much more negative connotation.
Palliative care is always going to have a hard time selling itself because of those inescapable negative associations, but the elephant in the room is not going away by calling it something else. My preferred approach is not to avoid the term, but to broaden its meaning and relevance beyond end-of-life care. If the meanings of words can evolve, that is an opportunity to promote better understanding.
Recognising and responding to suffering is something we all should be doing. Promoting well-being, especially for the sickest and most vulnerable, should be something everyone does—you, me, all healthcare providers, families, governments, whole communities. If we support this notion, then palliative care can be viewed as an enabler, preparing everyone to care, championing “quality of life for every age and every stage”. Enabler: now here’s a name that connotes hope.
By Thich Nhat Hanh1
Don’t say that I will depart tomorrow— even today I am still arriving.
Look deeply: every second I am arriving to be a bud on a Spring branch, to be a tiny bird, with still-fragile wings, learning to sing in my new nest, to be a caterpillar in the heart of a flower, to be a jewel hiding itself in a stone.
I still arrive, in order to laugh and to cry, to fear and to hope. The rhythm of my hear is the birth and death of all that is alive.
I am a mayfly metamorphosing on the surface on the river. And I am the bird that swoops down to swallow the mayfly.
I am a frog swimming happily in the clear water of a pond. And I am the grass-snake that silently feeds itself on the frog.
I am the child in Uganda, all skin and bones, my legs as thin as bamboo sticks. And I am the arms merchant, selling deadly weapons to Uganda.
I am the twelve-year-old girl, refugee on a small boat, who throws herself into the ocean after being raped by a sea pirate.
And I am also the pirate, my heart not yet capable of seeing and loving.
I am a member of the politburo, with plenty of power in my hands. And I am the man who has to pay his “debt of blood” to my people dying slowly in a forced-labor camp.
My joy is like Spring, so warm it makes flowers bloom all over the Earth. My pain is like a river of tears, so vast it fills the four oceans.
Please call me by my true names, so I can hear all my cries and laughter at once, so I can see that my joy and pain are one.
Please call me by my true names, so I can wake up and the door of my heart could be left open, the door of compassion.
From https://www.mindfulnessbell.org/archive/2015/06/poem-please-call-me-by-my-true-names.