The Fluidity of Illness: How Language Shapes Healing

In 2016, a study by researchers at Stanford University revealed a surprising insight: the way we talk about illness profoundly influences how we experience it. Patients who described their conditions using nouns—“I am a diabetic,” “I have cancer”—reported feeling a stronger sense of permanence and identity with their illness than those who framed it dynamically, such as “I am living with diabetes.” This difference, subtle though it may seem, reflects a larger truth about the English language: it is a noun-heavy system. And nouns, by their nature, make things feel fixed and unchanging—qualities that are at odds with the reality of human biology.

Contrast this with Chinese medicine, where the diagnosis is inherently more fluid. Chinese medical terminology often emphasizes patterns of imbalance rather than fixed diseases. Instead of saying someone "has arthritis," a diagnosis might describe the dynamic state: “wind-damp obstruction,” implying a condition that arises from an interaction of external and internal factors and can shift as these factors change. The language is verb-like, action-oriented, and rooted in impermanence. In this worldview, illness is something you’re moving through, not something you are.

This concept aligns closely with the truths of physics. Carlo Rovelli, a physicist, describes reality as inherently relational and dynamic. Nothing exists in isolation or permanence—not even the atoms in our bodies. The cancer cells in your body today are not the same as they were yesterday. Your body is constantly changing, responding, and adapting. Yet English, with its reliance on static nouns, suggests the opposite: that a condition like “cancer” is a monolithic, unchanging entity lodged in your identity.

The psychological consequences of this linguistic framing are profound. A 2020 study in Health Psychology found that noun-based diagnoses—such as “You are a cancer patient”—triggered higher levels of stress and stronger identity association with the illness compared to verb-based descriptions like “You are currently managing cancer.” When illness is framed as a fixed noun, it feels immovable, like a life sentence. When framed as a verb, it becomes a process—something that can change, improve, or resolve.

This may explain why receiving a diagnosis can feel more threatening than the symptoms themselves. It’s not just the words; it’s what they imply. English’s noun-heavy framing anchors illness into identity, filling the "threat bucket" with fears of permanence and existential loss. The body, already managing the physical stress of illness, must now contend with the psychological weight of a label that feels unyielding.

But what if we spoke about illness differently? Imagine a doctor saying, “Your body is currently experiencing cancer.” This subtle shift reframes the illness as part of a dynamic process, not an immovable fact. It aligns more closely with the principles of both physics and traditional Chinese medicine—where balance is always shifting, healing is ongoing, and nothing is truly fixed.

Language matters. It shapes how we see ourselves, our health, and our potential to heal. Perhaps it’s time to let go of the nouns and embrace the verbs.