Words matter – especially in medicine

An editorial in The Lancet (a medical journal that’s been published for over 200 years) has revisited a subject that’s been niggling at me and many other patients: what the editorial authors called blame-ridden language – which they describe as being “pervasive throughout medicine.”(1)

For example, why do doctors include chart notes like :“Patient claims her pain is 10/10” ?  Choosing the word “claims” somehow implies that the patient is lying. In the real world, we would say:  “She is experiencing 10/10 pain”. 

Or consider how doctors often use the word deny:  “Patient denies having fever or cramps.”  In the real world, that word can also imply that this patient is untrustworthy. Here’s how one of my Heart Sisters readers openly corrected her doctor’s chart notes:(2):

I did not DENY these things.  I said I didn’t feel them. Completely different!  Language matters.”              .

The Lancet editors suggest that the use of thoughtless words in medicine doesn’t come from a place of malice, but more from a lack of awareness:

“They’re not reflective of an intentional effort to offend. These phrases are typically used as shorthand in an effort to aid communication.” 

One of my readers has worked in maternal/child health for many years, and   she mentioned in response to a post here that her OB-GYN colleagues routinely use hurtful words like incompetent cervix, failure to thrive or elderly primigravida.  (I’d add angry cervix and hostile uterus to her list, too). By the way, the term elderly primigravida was first used in 1958 by the International Council of Obstetricians and Gynecologists referring to women aged 35 years or older who were pregnant for the first time. I’m guessing that most OB-GYNs do not actually believe that a 35-year old woman is “elderly”, but many in the profession kept repeating that terminology anyway because that’s just the way it’s done.  The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists, by the way,  has finally announced new preferred terminology for its members to now use instead: “pregnancy at age 35 years or older”).  (There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?) 

The Lancet authors also admit:

“The medical literature regularly uses blame-ridden language, stating for example that patients failed treatment, failed to reach a treatment endpoint, failed screening, or were unsuccessful.”  

Speaking of FAILURE, too many heart patients worldwide must still endure hearing their cardiologists say out loud: Your heart is FAILING! – despite the need to immediately reassure these horrified patients that the cruel diagnosis of heart FAILURE doesn’t actually mean that their hearts are FAILING. But if physicians truly believe that FAILURE does not mean failure, then stop saying it – and come up with a more appropriate name for this diagnosis.

For a list of more accurate names from Harvard cardiologist Dr. Lynne Warner Stevenson, read my editorial published in the British Medical Journal (BMJ):  “Heart Failure:  It’s Time to Finally Change the F-Word”

Here’s another area where words in medicine matter: many people – including physicians – still tend to describe their patients using disease-first language e.g. calling them diabetics or epileptics – instead of a person with diabetes, or a person with epilepsy (which are examples of person-first language).  The Lancet editors warn that disease-first language is  “a common practice that can dehumanize the patient, equating them with their disease rather than as individuals.”

Dr. Tessa Richards is not only the senior editor of the British Medical Journal  but she also lives with a number of serious chronic conditions. In her BMJ opinion piece called “Words That Annoy, Phrases That Grate” (3), she weighed in with her own thoughts on the dehumanizing practice of disease-first language:

“Doctors who use these words think it’s fine and seem oblivious to how insulting and rude they sound to people who are patients. While it’s convenient to categorize people by their disease or its severity, few people look in the mirror and see ‘a poorly controlled diabetic’. And who would introduce themselves as a ‘co-morbid patient with multiple complaints’?

“Medical paternalism may be on the wane, but the medical lexicon is littered with words and phrases that can feel top-down and demeaning.” 

When Diabetes Australia wanted to improve its communication with and about people living with diabetes, the organization issued a revised Position Statement covering what they called “a new language”. Here’s how they described the importance of this new language:(4)

“Language has the power to persuade, change or reinforce beliefs and stereotypes – for better or worse. Words do more than reflect people’s reality: words create reality and affect how patients view the world and their diagnosis. Language needs to support people in their self-care efforts.

“Importantly, language that de-motivates or induces fear, guilt or distress needs to be avoided and countered.

(Perhaps somebody over at Diabetes Australia could have a wee chat with the cardiologists who have had decades of experience inducing “fear, guilt or distress” in heart patients and their family members simply by delivering their thoughtlessly cruel heart FAILURE diagnoses).  See also: A Patient, a Caregiver and a Cardiologist Walk into a Bar…

Physicians use hurtful words because they were taught as trainees in medical school by professors who had learned the same hurtful words from their own profs for generations. An insightful 2015 paper published in the Journal of Graduate Medical Education suggests that this medical language is deeply rooted in tradition as old as the profession itself. In fact, physicians’ routine use of hurtful words like complain, deny and fail  when describing their patients dates back more than 300 years.(5)

Yet the lesson starts anew the very next time any young medical student is asked about an assigned patient’s chief complaint (instead of being asked about the patient’s chief concern like the real world would say). The required response then goes  something like this:

“Ms. Smith is a 74-year-old hypertensive diabetic complaining of chest pain. She denies shortness of breath. She has a history significant for metastatic colon cancer, and recently failed chemotherapy.”

Good job, young med student! You’ve learned to include as many blame-ridden words as possible, which will be heard and then repeated by your classmates, too.

The Lancet editors were also concerned that the known emotional impact of a serious diagnosis on patients and their family members can manifest as depression, anxiety, stress, anger or a combination of these. They believe that dismissive language and attitudes can further perpetuate this intense and overwhelming emotional load that so often accompanies diagnosis, especially when comparing their damaging effects with the positive effect of using respectful language:
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“Respectful language can go some way to ameliorating the burden of a frightening diagnosis, and so should be the absolute minimum requirement for medical professionals, whether speaking with patients face-to-face or in the literature.”
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None of these recommendations are new. In 2006, for example, Harry Cayton’s compelling observations in his essay called “The Alienating Language of Health Care” were published in the Journal of the Royal Society of Medicine, where he wrote: 
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“Discourtesy cannot be the basis on which a healing relationship is built. The reduction in sexist and racist language, for example, has not eliminated sexism and racism, but it sets a context and an environment in which sexism and racism are now more shocking and less tolerated.  We must do the same with the language of blame and disrespect. We are a long, long way from patient-centred health care – and our language betrays us.”
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The Lancet editorial concludes like this:
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“Treating patients with respect at every turn, including when referring to them and their disease – in presentations, medical notes, the literature, and peer-to-peer conversation – will help to improve patient–clinician relationships, increase trust, and help to ensure that patients are confident they will receive the best medical advice possible when seeking help.”
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1. Editorial, “Patient First, Person First”. The Lancet. Volume 24, ISSUE 10, P1053, October 2023.
2. Fernández  et al.Words matter: what do patients find judgmental or offensive in outpatient notes?” Journal of General Internal Medicine, 2021;36:25718
3. Tessa Richards, “Words That Annoy, Phrases That Grate”. BMJ Opinion, April 7, 2017.
4. J. Speight, “Our language matters: Improving communication with and about people with diabetes. A position statement by Diabetes Australia.”  Diabetes Research and Clinical Practice, January 7, 2021. 
5. Sykes DB, Nichols DN. “There Is No Denying It, Our Medical Language Needs an Update.” Journal of Graduate Medical Education. 2015 Mar 7(1):137-8.
Image:  Gerd Altmann, Pixabay

NOTE FROM CAROLYN:   I wrote much more about doctor-patient communication – and why words matter – in my book, A Woman’s Guide to Living with Heart Disease. You can ask for it at your local bookshop (please support your favourite independent booksellers!) or order it online (paperback, hardcover or e-book) at Amazon, or order it directly from my publisher, Johns Hopkins University Press (use their code HTWN to save 30% off the list price).

11 thoughts on “Words matter – especially in medicine

  1. Loved the article – words matter in medicine! It has a negative effect on how people embrace and react to their diagnosis; it can change how aggressive or passive someone will work to remediate their health situation…

    it’s about hope, and positive language provides hope!!!

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    1. Hello Dr. Roe – providing positive language is as important as avoiding negative or thoughtless language. Your example of the power of language on how patients react to a diagnosis reminds me of a compelling story shared by one of my Heart Sisters readers. She had just been told by her doctor that she had heart failure:

      “The doctor kept on talking but I couldn’t seem to understand another word after I heard ‘heart FAILURE’. I honestly felt like I was going to pass out or vomit, or both. Failing? My heart is failing?! I left his office and then very slowly I walked out to the parking lot, but I was too afraid to get into my car and drive home. How could I possibly live if my heart was failing? I truly expected to drop dead at any moment.”

      And that traumatic reaction is entirely predictable – given that we all know what the word “failure” means. It’s not just negative – it’s cruel.

      Take care. . . ❤️

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  2. I remember when I tried physical therapy to address painful spinal issues (caused by bulging lumbar discs), which did not improve despite months of PT. The doctor’s note said, “Patient failed PT.”

    I felt like sassily replying, “PT failed me.” But I didn’t. Nor did I take her up on a referral to a neurosurgeon. She was a good, caring doctor, but the language of blame still stung, even if unintentional.

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    1. Hi Marie – OUCH! “Patient FAILED Physical Therapy!”?!?!? This makes me insane.

      That’s like saying you somehow didn’t try hard enough to cure yourself. It must have taken a lot of self-control NOT to sassily reply. But if we don’t call out healthcare professionals when they speak like this to us, they’ll simply continue to use that thoughtless “language of blame” on other people too.

      Patients don’t fail treatments. It’s the treatments that fail to help patients. . . Docs must STOP using the word FAIL to describe what does not help their patients.

      I really hope your spinal issues are much less painful now. Take care…❤️

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  3. Another great article. Thank you. This should be compulsory reading for everyone working with people ! But especially for those working in healthcare.

    Best wishes

    kate xx

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    1. Hello Kate – words do matter, no matter what the occupation but you’re so right – when communicating with or about vulnerable or overwhelmed populations like patients, words are even more important.
      Take care. ..❤️

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  4. As a writer, I am always looking for le mot juste. And although I’m hardly an expert on medical notes, I think it’s an overreach to ask physicians to say “persons with diabetes” rather than “diabetic.” Shorthand or professional jargon are not dirty words. They’re telegraphic.

    I was an elderly primagravida. I didn’t care what I was called as long as I delivered a healthy child. I don’t know what I’m called now– hypertensive, proud stent wearer…it makes no difference as long as my medical team knows what ails me and how to treat it.

    I think the problem with language arose when medical records were open to patients and they could see what was written about them. And because they didn’t understand the terms of art or context– claim, deny, compliant– they took it literally and took offense.

    What I think we should take from the Lancet article and others is that doctors should be more mindful about the language they use with their patients. And find non-judgemental words to communicate their thoughts. “I see you’re not taking your meds regularly/haven’t filled the prescription/etc, why is that? How can we support you you?” It’s more empathetic and can uncover useful info (I can’t swallow the pills, they’re too expensive…). Good intel for everyone.

    Just my thoughts. I enjoy your posts and recommend your book to everyone who attends my online WomenHeart support group.

    S

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    1. I think we’re both basically agreeing with The Lancet perspectives – as you say, “doctors should be more mindful about the language they use with their patients.” PERIOD.

      This goes without saying whenever the words come from physicians, of course – which is why it’s so important for credible resources like The Lancet to go to bat on behalf of patients.
      Thanks for recommending my book to your groups! ❤️

      Like

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