I think I've mentioned this before in passing: the nurses at the "liquid cancer" (aka: blood cancer) infusion clinic where I go once a month on a Saturday, are generally filling in for a weekend shift - coming over from the solid tumor infusion clinic across the street, that is closed on Sat/Sun. This gives them a little variety of work and patients (and a little extra OT$), and gives the Monday-thru-Friday regulars at my infusion clinic a bit of a break.
I recently had the privilege of working with one of these weekend-shift nurses who happened to be a cancer survivor himself; having conquered Ewing's sarcoma. The typical infusion clinic session for me can average about 4-5 hours, so during that time (about 10 minutes of which is spent in close proximity as the nurse slowly administers an injection into my tummy - talk about creating a conversation occasion), there is ample opportunity for us to get to know each other. Sharing even small bits or pieces of our respective life stories helps break the ice, pass the time, and humanize the process. I mention this because not only did I learn that this particular nurse had weathered his storm of cancer, but he also volunteered the background that his brother had died from the same disease. And motivated by this personal tragedy, he chose to pursue a life of medical service to others who were also similarly stricken - and wrestling with their own strain of cancer.
I suspect that this enriches his ability to relate to patients - throughout the ups and downs of their journey. I can say that it made me feel a deeper connection to him and enhanced my respect for him - his work and his compassion. None of this level of emotion or commitment from the nurses is at all necessary for the quality of my infusion or the efficacy of my medication, but it made me feel "better" about the moment and more appreciative of his efforts. In some respects, he was just doing his job, but at a much more meaningful level, I was moved that he chose to share his life and motivation with me, and I will always remember his love for the memory of his brother, and the honor of that memory that he brought to my "bedside" that day.
