Denah Joseph: “In the Hospital”

We recently spoke with Denah Joseph, a clinical chaplain who works with the Palliative Care team to provide spiritual services to patients with serious illness. In addition, Denah leads efforts to address burnout among healthcare providers.

Denah, tell us about yourself.

My first career was actually in clinical psychology, but I’ve been a Palliative Care chaplain for 15 years. I also teach skill-building for providers around burnout and resilience.

What brought you to Palliative Care?

I’ve lost three sisters and a partner to breast cancer, and my dad died when I was quite young, so I’ve had a lot of exposure to loss. The other big thread in my life has been my spiritual practice. My father was an Orthodox Jew, but exceptionally ecumenical for his time. His first wife was Irish Catholic, and my father used to go to church, sit, kneel, and say the rosary, and light candles for his Catholic friends. Three hundred nuns from the local diocese all came to my dad’s funeral. It was really remarkable.

I’ve been a practicing Buddhist since I was 19. When I went back to school to become a chaplain I wanted to bring more of my spiritual interest into counseling work, so chaplaincy seemed like a really interesting way to do that.

Tell us more about what a chaplain actually does.

As a field, healthcare chaplaincy is relatively new. The old model was if a person was religious, somebody would arrange for a rabbi or an imam or a priest to come into the hospital and take care of the pastoral needs of that patient. In the last 10 to 15 years, the consensus guidelines for quality patient care now include addressing the spiritual dimension of patients’ lives. Instead of relying on volunteers from the community with no quality assurance, it’s required that any hospital over 200 beds have spiritual care available. In order to be a board-certified chaplain, you need to be endorsed by a faith community, and have an advanced degree in either Pastoral Counseling or Theology.

Everybody has spiritual needs even if they don’t use that word “spiritual.” We define it in terms of meaning, relationships, impact on one’s life, hope, fears, reconciliation issues, legacy issues, etc. Approximately 80% of patients want their physicians to understand a little bit about their spiritual/existential/emotional world, and only 20% of doctors ask—so there’s a really big gap. This can be a 5-minute conversation about who are you, what’s important to you, what’s the biggest struggle with your illness that is not medically oriented.

Can you share a patient encounter where you learned something?

Recently I cared for a patient whose wish was to survive to see his only son graduate from college. His wife and son both were like, “You’ve got to hang in there, Dad. You’ve got to hang in there.” He had very advanced pancreatic cancer, and the chances of him making it to graduation were exceedingly small, but nobody was dealing with this.

During the hospitalization, I went to the patient and his wife and I said, “We’re all hoping that you’re going to make it until the graduation but in the event you don’t, would you like to write a letter to your son?” In the Jewish tradition, it is called an ethical will. It’s the idea of legacy work. Just like you would make a will for your material possessions, an ethical will expresses what you value, what you hope for and dream for your beloved. He wanted to do it. His wife said, “Absolutely not, that’s like believing you’re not going to make it.” He was a very gentle guy. He would generally completely defer to his wife, but this time he said, “No, I want to do this.”

So I met with the patient and asked questions like, “What are the things you would hope to be remembered for? What are you most proud of that you want your son to know? What would you want your son to know if he became a father?”

I had him just talk, while I took notes. Later on, I wrote it up on official stationery and gave it to the patient.