waiting rooms

Sometimes it's easy to forget about "civilians" who don't work in oncology, and what the cancer experience is like for them. This hit me today when I went to the new UNC Cancer Center to give a mentor of mine a recommendation letter form. She's a pediatric oncologist, and I went to the pediatric heme/onc clinic, and sat in the waiting room while she finished up with her patient. I saw parents and grandparents, both alone and with their children, and I realized, once again, that people who don't work in the field can experience this in a much different way. It's too easy for me to forget that, and I need to work on that. I saw the look of badly-disguised fear in one mother's eyes, and the half-hearted attempts at distracting themselves by family members. I forget that people are terrified of cancer, and not everyone turns toward learning information - many people turn away from learning about cancer, because they don't understand it, or it's just too frightening. For me, the more scared I am, the more I read about it, because learning and knowledge helps me to reign in my fear. But that's not for everyone. I choose to surround myself with information about cancer; most people do not, they are thrust into the world of lumbar punctures and chemotherapy and radiation and blood counts and talk of stages and remission and metastases unwillingly. And when I think about that, that must be terrifying. And I cannot allow myself to forget that. Not at all. Whether I eventually become a pediatric oncology nurse practitioner or a health psychologist, I cannot forget the human side of cancer, as Jimmie Holland (my own personal favorite oncology rock star) said. I can't forget the fear or the desperation or the raw hope that many people need just to face the day or another doctor's appointment.

I have chosen to immerse myself in a subject that most people try to avoid with every fiber in their body. I thought about this as I sat in the waiting room. And for a split second, I did think, Jaime, what on earth are you thinking? Look at these children, look at their parents. This field is full of sadness and tears and pain. But then in the next second, I knew that I wouldn't want to do anything else. I don't turn away from this. Yes, it scares me when I let it. Yes, it makes me sad when I let it. But I also know that one day, I will be able to make a difference, even if it's for one family a day. For me, that makes it all worth it.