Doctor Steven Palanchuck says he has had suicidal thoughts and he is far from being the only one affected by a health system that seems insensitive to the experiences of caregivers.
Published at 6:00 a.m.
Steven Palanchuck
Doctor, Montreal
I am a doctor. My daily life is to care for, listen to and reassure my patients in their most vulnerable moments. It’s a life choice that I made and I don’t regret it.
But despite this deep commitment, I went through periods when the darkest thoughts haunted me—moments of doubt so deep they made me consider the unthinkable. And I know I’m not alone. I want to reassure you: I have taken concrete steps to overcome this ordeal, and I am surrounded by a support network*.
Over the years, I have lost colleagues, friends, caregivers as dedicated as me, who ended their lives, crushed by a weight they carried in silence.
We rarely talk about it, and only in hushed tones, among ourselves, in the hospital corridors — as if simply recognizing this suffering could shake our entire system. But this is not an individual failure; it is a collective failure, that of a system which abandons those who are there to take care of others.
The healthcare system, which is supposed to support us, often leaves us alone in the face of our own exhaustion. We are asked to give more and more, day after day, without ever failing, in conditions that exhaust even the most enduring. We are trained to manage the pain of others, but never to recognize our own limits or to ask for help.
A social issue
However, the mental health of caregivers is not just a personal problem; it is an issue that concerns all of society. If we lose those who save lives, our entire healthcare system will falter.
This silence around the suffering of caregivers is untenable. It creates an invisible weight that many of us carry alone. We are seen as solid pillars, “guardian angels”, but at what cost? Fatigue, emotional stress and the feeling of never doing enough end up eating us from the inside. Asking for help is often seen as an admission of weakness, as if showing our humanity betrays our role. But how many caregivers will still have to collapse for the system to move from wishful thinking to action?
I am speaking out to break this silence, because we cannot continue like this. It is vital to create a space where caregivers can talk about their struggles without shame or judgment.
It is no longer enough to have a few listening lines or surface solutions; we need a real culture of support, where our well-being is taken seriously, and not just on mental health theme days or in large institutional strategic plans.
Nothing will change if we just stay silent. By refusing to see this reality, we perpetuate a system that wears down those who dedicate themselves to others, sometimes to the point of losing their lives.
Today, I appeal to decision-makers, health network managers, our professional orders, unions, establishment leaders: it is time to recognize the suffering of caregivers, to make it a priority, and to build a system where compassion flows both ways.
The health of caregivers is not a privilege, it is an essential need. In order for us to continue healing, it is high time that someone takes care of us.
*If this text makes you feel distressed, help is available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
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