A conversation with Dr. Adjoa Boateng Evans
When we think about spirituality in healthcare, the image often begins and ends with a chaplain at the bedside or families gathered in prayer. But Dr. Adjoa Boateng Evans, an anesthesiologist and palliative care physician who has practiced everywhere from Stanford to Duke, believes that medicine’s deepest work often happens beyond charts, tubes, and monitors. Here, she reflects on the radical bravery it takes to risk vulnerability in the ICU—and how creating space for spirituality in healthcare can bridge the space between doctor and patient.
Spirituality in Unexpected Places
For Adjoa, spirituality isn’t confined to organized religion. “We all have spirituality,” she says. “Especially at the end of life. We just might not call it that.”Adjoa recalls the death of a patient from a sudden heart rupture. His partner, a public health PhD who didn’t identify as religious, asked to bathe the body and wrap it in a special cloth before it was taken to the morgue.
“We usually ask patients if they have any formal religious practices they’d like at end of life,” she explains. “For him, he said no. But as he performed this ritual—that is spirituality.”
That moment, Adjoa says, shows us that spirituality can emerge anywhere meaning is created—through ritual, through presence, through love made tangible.
(Related: End Well resources on ritual and remembrance)
What Counts as Spirituality Today?
Generational differences may also shape how spirituality shows up. “Whether your spirituality is TikTok or whether it is the mosque,” Adjoa notes, “we all believe in something, which is what fuels our thoughts around end of life.”
The communities people build online, the mindfulness practices they follow, the self-care routines they commit to—these can carry as much spiritual weight as traditional rituals.
(Explore more: The role of spirituality in serious illness, National Institute on Aging)
When Hope and Medicine Meet
Healthcare often struggles with the tension between spiritual hope and medical fact. Families may speak of miracles when providers want to talk about prognosis.
But Adjoa reframes the dilemma: “They’re not telling you they’re completely impervious to understanding what’s going on. They’re telling you that this language, this invitation, is important to their healing and dying process.”
For her, the challenge isn’t choosing between hope and honesty. It’s learning to hold both.
(Related: End Well on language, hope, and meaning)
Asking the Central Question: What Is Your True Spirituality?
At End Well’s Radical Bravery 2025 conference, Adjoa will invite attendees to ask themselves: What is your true spirituality?
“We wear labels,” she says. “I’m a Christian. But is that what I’m devoting my time, energy, money, resources, thoughts, beliefs to? Or is it something else? Whatever that thing is—that’s probably your spirituality.”
The question cuts to the heart of how people find meaning: in prayer or in painting, in Sunday services or in the quiet of a hiking trail, in scripture or in shared meals with friends.
Hope as a Universal Current
For Adjoa, spirituality is inseparable from hope. “We wake up every day and go to meetings, or travel to Japan, or play with our kids because we have hope in something. I hope this trip will enlighten me. I hope this meal will help my family connect.”
Hope isn’t denial—it’s a current running through human existence, and at the end of life, it’s often what sustains both patients and families.
Who Holds the Healers?
Spirituality matters not only for patients, but also for those who care for them. Healthcare workers often feel the strain of giving without being held themselves.
“There’s this tension between trying to hold people and feeling not held yourself,” Adjoa observes. Recognizing the spiritual dimension of caregiving—the meaning in witnessing, supporting, and being present—can help providers navigate burnout and rediscover purpose.
The Language That Holds Us
Adjoa reminds us that when families talk about miracles or use spiritual language, they’re not ignoring reality. “They’re not telling you they’re completely impervious to understanding what’s going on. They’re telling you that this language, this invitation, is important to their healing and dying process.”
That’s the deeper lesson: spirituality at end of life isn’t a distraction from medical care—it’s an essential way people make meaning in the hardest moments. Recognizing and honoring that language allows providers, families, and patients to walk together in both truth and tenderness.