A Tribute to Oncology Nurses

Cancer is six letters that can shatter a life in seconds. In my case it shattered six lives: a father, a mother, a daughter, and three sons. The physician who delivered the diagnosis was excellent but blunt, and those of us old enough to understand were left in shock. I was 11. All I could think was, will my dad die? Will he ever walk me down the aisle or hold my first baby?

The years of chemo and radiation that followed were the hardest I have ever watched my parents endure. I saw the strongest person in my life turn weak. I watched his personality change. Chemo saves lives, and it also does lasting damage, physically and sometimes emotionally and mentally.

Those years were also the first time I saw real empathy and compassion, and it came from a nurse.

A nurse administered my dad's first chemo treatment and explained the side effects, again and again, until they made sense. A nurse answered every one of our thousand questions without losing patience. A nurse kept a bucket and a cold washcloth ready for the nausea and had tips for the weight loss. A nurse helped my mom be my dad's rock. A nurse told us that no, we were not crazy, that really was a side effect. A nurse said it was okay to cry, then shed a tear herself behind a closed door. And a nurse celebrated with us the day he was declared cancer free.

A nurse's compassion is the reason I became a nurse. My dad walked me down the aisle, and my son now calls him Papa.

Thank you, oncology nurses, for the impact you have on patients and on the families standing behind them. Your compassion and strength matter as much as your skill.