Swanson’s health view: health is a subjective, meaning-filled experience of wholeness.

Swanson’s View of Health: A Meaningful Wholeness That Guides Nursing

If you’ve spent time staring at a patient’s vitals or jotting notes about symptoms, you might forget there’s a bigger picture to health. Kristen Swanson invites us to step back and ask a simple, powerful question: What does health feel like to the person who’s living it? In Swanson’s theory, health isn’t a binary state—on or off, sick or well. It’s a subjective, meaning-filled experience of wholeness. And that shift matters, not just for theory exams, but for the everyday dance of nursing—where every interaction can nudge a patient toward a more integrated sense of well-being.

Let’s break down what this means in plain terms, with a few practical notes that resonate in real life.

What Swanson means by health

Here’s the essence in a nutshell: health, in Swanson’s view, becomes a lived experience. It’s not merely the body’s absence of disease or a clean set of lab numbers. It’s how a person perceives their own state of being—their hope, their sense of meaning, their ability to connect with others, and their feeling of wholeness even when parts of life are unsettled.

This perspective places meaning, purpose, and personal interpretation at the center. If health is a story we tell about ourselves, Swanson would say the most important characters aren’t just labs and procedures; they’re feelings, relationships, and moments of resilience. You can sense this in phrases that emphasize the person’s experience: their goals, their values, their sense of belonging, and how they experience strength in daily life.

Why meaning and wholeness matter in care

Think about a patient with a chronic illness who still loves making bread, teaching a grandchild to ride a bike, or simply sitting down with a favorite photo album. From a purely clinical lens, their health might look uneven, marked by flares or fatigue. But from Swanson’s vantage point, health can still be a felt sense of wholeness—an ability to engage with life in meaningful ways, despite physical limits.

This isn’t soft polish on a hard science. It’s a reminder that every person’s health is tethered to what matters to them. For example:

• A person who values social connection may judge health by the strength of their relationships and their ability to participate in family moments.

• Someone who finds meaning through spiritual or cultural practices might describe health as being able to engage in those rituals, even if they’re managing symptoms.

• A patient who cherishes independence could measure health by their capacity to do small, everyday tasks without feeling diminished.

In Swanson’s view, these meanings aren’t secondary. They are the core of what it means to be well. And that leads to a crucial implication: caring becomes a practice of honoring the patient’s sense of wholeness, not just treating a condition.

What care looks like when health is defined this way

If you want to bring Swanson’s idea into practice, start by listening—really listening. Here are concrete, patient-centered cues that align with a health defined as wholeness:

• Listen for meaning. Ask open questions that invite the patient to share what’s most important to them. For example: “What gives you a sense of purpose today?” or “What would make you feel most like yourself this week?”

• Validate feelings, not just symptoms. Acknowledge fear, hope, and frustration. Expressions like, “That sounds really tough, I’m glad you told me,” can be as important as a pain score.

• Support personal goals. If a patient’s goal is to attend a family event, help design a plan that makes that possible, even if it means adjusting treatment schedules or providing extra support.

• Nurture connections. Health is enriched by relationships. Encourage family involvement, coordinate with social services when needed, and recognize that isolation is a barrier to wholeness.

• Respect autonomy. Invite patients to participate in decisions about care. Shared decision-making isn’t just policy—it’s a pathway to maintain dignity and a sense of control.

• Address emotional and social layers. Provide space for worry, hope, or even spiritual needs. When patients feel heard on these fronts, their sense of wholeness often strengthens.

Real-life sketches: stories that illustrate Swanson’s idea

Let’s imagine two patients, both dealing with the same chronic condition, yet feeling quite different about health.

• Maria loves baking and staying connected with her church group. Her health, to her, means she can keep showing up to bake sales and help friends with projects. She measures wellness by energy for the next church gathering, not simply by a blood sugar reading. A nurse who hovers around the clinical numbers and misses her social anchors might miss a crucial part of her well-being. When the nurse tunes in to Maria’s need for community, a care plan that places social engagement at the center can help Maria feel whole again, even if the illness persists.

• Raj has a strong family role and finds meaning in mentoring his kids and staying active in the neighborhood. For Raj, health is the ability to pace himself safely, run a light cardio routine, and still be present for his children’s milestones. He might resist aggressive treatments that drain his energy if they steal time from his family. A Swanson-informed approach acknowledges Raj’s core values and supports him in maintaining those ties to life he cherishes.

In both cases, the “health” being pursued isn’t a perfect, symptom-free state. It’s a living sense of wholeness that grows or shifts as life changes. That nuance is exactly what Swanson’s framework calls us to notice.

Where does this fit in the bigger nursing picture?

Swanson’s view sits alongside other nursing theories that lean into the human side of care. It’s complementary to the hard science, not in opposition to it. The big takeaway is a reminder: patients aren’t just a diagnostic label or a chart with numbers. They’re whole people with histories, hopes, and futures. The nurse’s role, then, becomes a careful weaving of science with meaning—ensuring that care respects a person’s story as it unfolds.

A few practical reminders for students and practitioners

• Definitions matter. When you come across a description of health, pause to notice whether it highlights the absence of illness or the presence of meaning and wholeness. Swanson’s framing leans toward the latter.

• Language shapes care. The words you choose can either widen or narrow a patient’s sense of wholeness. Phrasing like “you’re still you” or “your life matters” can reinforce the patient’s identity beyond their diagnosis.

• Tasks vs. truths. Any nursing interaction can swing the balance between checking a box (do this test, give that med) and honoring a truth (this person’s life, goals, and connections). Strive for moments that honor truth.

• Critical mind matters. Some critics argue that a focus on subjectivity risks inconsistency. It’s fair to keep both the scientific evidence and the patient’s personal story in view, and use them together to guide care.

Bringing the idea into daily conversations

You don’t need to rewrite every care plan from scratch to honor Swanson’s health concept. Small shifts can make a big difference. Try these:

• Start conversations with “What does health feel like for you today?” versus “How are your symptoms?”

• When a patient reports fatigue, ask how it affects the life they value most—time with family, a hobby, or work.

• Encourage family or support people to share their perspectives on what matters to the patient, and integrate that into the plan.

A gentle note on balance

There’s a natural tension here. On the one hand, fully embracing a meaning-centered view helps patients feel seen and supported. On the other hand, clinicians can’t ignore the medical realities that require treatment decisions. The sweet spot, for Swanson, is a balance: respect the patient’s lived experience while guiding care with evidence and compassion. It’s not about abandoning physiology; it’s about letting physiology and meaning meet in a way that helps the person feel whole.

Why this perspective endears itself to nursing

If you’ve ever stood at a patient’s bedside and felt a half-smile of relief when someone simply listened, you know why this matters. Swanson’s concept of health as a subjective, meaning-filled sense of wholeness resonates with the core of nursing—caring that reaches beyond gadgets and graphs to touch a person’s life.

So, what’s the takeaway?

Health isn’t a single, fixed condition you can quantify and label. It’s a living, personal experience shaped by meaning, relationships, and the capacity to engage with life as the person values it. Swanson invites us to see health through the patient’s eyes—the story they tell themselves, day after day, about being who they are in the world.

If you’re exploring nursing theories, this one offers a gentle, human lens: care that honors the whole person, not just the symptoms. It’s a reminder that every clinical action can be an act of affirmation—an offer to support a person’s sense of wholeness when life feels heavy, and a quiet invitation to keep moving toward what matters most to them.

And that, in the end, is a profoundly practical form of care. It’s not a flashy slogan or a trendy method. It’s a steady, real approach to helping people live their lives with dignity, purpose, and a felt sense of wellness that goes beyond the surface. If you ever wonder why nursing feels so meaningful at times, it’s often because someone chose to meet another person where they stood—in that moment—and said, in effect, you matter. Your health is about your whole self, and that matters.