As a college student, I always found Oncology to be the most interesting field in medicine. Neoplasms, oncogenes, carcinogens, and all the related to pathophysiology fascinated me. When combined with nutritional biochemistry and its metabolic pathways, I was sold. I even wrote my senior thesis on the "Calcium and Colon Cancer Connection." So, it was a natural step to take when five years ago I began working full-time with cancer patients at a hospital-based cancer center.
For those working in any area of healthcare, there is an expected and obvious need for a personal touch. We do not usher people in and out like cattle and we certainly do not just hand them some information and say, “Good luck with your treatment.” We take time to listen. We hear hearts, not just symptoms. We strive to be patient and kind. We are as empathetic as possible and often, we hug. However, after working at the cancer center for a while, I realized that even more of this compassion and effort would be required of me than I originally expected.
Cancer patients are sick, really sick. And then sometimes, they are well, and then they are sick again. For both patients and their families – and those of us working with them – it can be an emotional roller coaster. So, I decided I needed to set some emotional boundaries if I was going to continue working in this environment. My plan was to go to work each day as strictly a professional. I would remain emotionally detached. This is just a job after all, right?
Then “Relay for Life,” a fund-raising program for cancer research, came along. It is held in the evening, after hours, and involves mingling with patients and their families in an informal setting. I am expected to attend not only that, but also Camp Bluebird, an adult cancer camp. So much for professional emotional boundaries! Camp Bluebird lasts an entire weekend (and twice a year, no less). Patients and survivors come to Camp Bluebird. They eat and tell stories and sing Kumbaya. My boss expects me to go as part of the staff. I do not think she is interested in hearing about my love for the pathophysiology of cancer. I don’t think she cares to hear how I think it's important to view my job as strictly professional and maintain personal and emotional boundaries. And so, I have gone every year since my employment here, but not with the best attitude.
But recently I have started realizing something: I am not always effective in my job as an Oncology Dietitian.
I often give people dietary tips and nutritional advice that does not help. Some stay sick and some get sicker. Sometimes, they die. Over time, I have begun to feel perpetually powerless at work. I have lost some of the zeal and spunk I originally had. Yes, I still give patients ideas of foods to try to alleviate the pain of mouth sores, some morning breakfast tips to ease nausea, or some recipes to help combat fatigue. But, I lack enthusiasm. I feel defeated at my job most of the time.
Ironically, cancer patients feel defeated most of the time, too. Hence, the need for cancer camps. The need to gather, to encourage, and to sing in an effort to lift our spirits. The theme of Camp Bluebird is appropriately named, “Choose Hope."
This year I am going to Camp Bluebird with a different attitude. I am going not only as staff, not only as a professional, but also as a participant. I think a little spirit-lifting and a little Kumbaya would do me some good.
When is camp Blue Bird? I think of your career as pretty amazing, because you are dealing with desperate people who may have no hope to cling to. Good diet tips may be helpful, but within you lies a hope that many of them have never known or chosen to embrace...JESUS. The eternal hope that far outshines the healthy body your patients long for. I think tapping into their broken spirits is a gift that you have and that God wants to use. I'm not talking about breaking out the Romans Road..but just letting them see Jesus shine through your eyes and your heart. I know it would be hard to lose patients when you have made a heart investment...but I think they will begin to ask you what gives you hope and peace and then you can share!! My brother is a paramedic and he often sees Horrific things (like a man who recently set himself on fire etc). However, my brother has been strategically placed in these death filled scenarios to bring hope to broken, dying and crushed people. I love your fresh perspective of work and I expect GREAT things to come. xo
ReplyDeleteIt's March 26-28. Two absolutely wonderful Radiation Oncology nurses that I work with, Mary and Monica, read my blog. They read this post and said they agreed with everything I said. I had no idea the feeling was mutual! They let me know that they, too, feel defeated most of the time, and that made me feel a lot better. We had a chat about some of our recent patients that have died and how sad it is sometimes. And we talked about some others who either don't try the recommendations we give or try them but they don't help. (For them, its recommendations about skin care during radiation that often people don't take seriously which is frustrating b/c it can cause subsequent infections). They encouraged me to just keep doing what I'm doing, even if it only helps 1 out of 50, it's still worth it. Monica also mentioned that her sister, who passed away from breast cancer a few years ago, did try some of the eating tips I gave her and really appreciated my help. That was sweet of her to say! Mary liked your comment. She said she's witnessed those who are dying with hope and those without. I haven't had the opportunity to get on that personal level of discussion with them, but she said she would let me know if there was someone who needed prayer or to be prayed with, that no one from administration would mind about that. Maybe at Camp Bluebird there would also be the chance for that. We'll see... As always, thanks for your feedback sweet Mandy!
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