They are on the front lines of the cancer battle, the oncology nurses who dispense the chemotherapy drugs at cancer centers across the country. They are the women and men who see patients come and go over time, but never really have the chance to know what a difference they make in the lives of cancer patients everywhere.
I was at the grocery store the other day when I spotted a family face from the cancer center. My mom had ended treatment long ago, but suddenly there was one of the oncology nurses, pushing her carriage up and down the aisles. I had to stop her and thank her. I had to tell this woman, who sometimes treated my mother, that what she does matters. We both got a little choked up as I thanked her, and I told her she could never hear it enough.
Think about it. Oncology nurses deal with the cancer battle every day, just as the rest of the teams at cancer centers do. They see patients come and go. Sometimes patients are cured, and that’s the end of the contact. Often, patients return because cancer has spread. Always cheerful and supportive, always there to offer a kind word and to answer questions, oncology nurses are the people you count on to help you get through the rigors of chemotherapy. They’re a very special breed of nurses. Do they know how much their work is appreciated? Do they know what an important role they play in the lives of their patients?
My mother wasn’t cured of her cancer, but she gained much from cancer treatment. She got time to finish unfinished business, to make decisions and to choose what she wanted. Her youngest grandson was accepted at the college of his choice, and she lived to know that he would not only graduate, but do so with good grades. She had the chance to share that joy with him, to celebrate his monumental achievement. There were birthdays she attended as a result of her cancer treatment, and laughs shared, stories told, and memories made. She and my father even made it to their sixtieth anniversary because of her cancer treatment.
How easy it would be to think that cancer treatment didn’t cure her, to feel cheated or robbed. But the truth is that we packed a lot of living into those extra months, and it’s carried us through the loss. Had my mother been younger, she’d probably still be alive and kicking, still feisty and funny. Cancer was just the last straw on a big pile of health troubles. But because it was treated as well as it was, we had that extra time with her.
It must not be easy to put on your game face every day and see the numbers of people coming through the doors of the cancer center, to know that some will make it and some won’t. Oncology nurses keep on doing what they do, often without ever knowing what happens to the people who never return. They don’t always know about the little miracles they help to happen with their caring and their compassion. For all those nurses out there, who sometimes wonder if it’s all worth it, let me tell you the truth. Every time a family has the chance to make a new memory, it’s worth it. We may not have forever, but a little more time can make a big difference. Thank you.