hold tight

This moment impacted me so much, I feel as though I need to share it and write it down so that I never forget it.

For my clinicals this semester, I got assigned to an oncology department. Yesterday I spent 5 hours caring for the patients I was assigned to, but today I can't stop thinking about two of them.

Another nursing student and I were told to do vitals on a ton of different rooms. When we went inside one of them, there was a patient lying in bed just watching TV. We started taking her vitals and asking her how she was doing. She mentioned that she thought me and the other nursing student were sisters and then we all got talking about how I don't even look my real sister. The patient then starting talking about her kids and how all of them were different, and no matter how you raise them or teach them, sometimes they just turn out so different from each other.

Then she asked me the question that would leave me paralyzed for hours. She asked me, "how do you tell your kids you have cancer?".

She then continued talking about how her cancer has just grown out of control and that she knew it was going to kill her.

But how does she tell her kids this? How do you tell your family that no matter how much you want to be with them, you can't anymore? Honestly, how do you grasp the fact that you can't control your body? It's a brutal war between human will and biology.

I just stood there, completely paralyzed. Like what do you say to that? She just started crying and kept saying, "how do I tell them?"

I stood there like a fool. All I could say was that I'm so sorry. Those words felt so weak coming out of my mouth. Words were so futile in that moment.

We finished our vitals while this was happening. She acknowledged that taking her vitals was done so she told us to go on and that she'd let us do our job. But doing vitals in the next room didn't even matter to me.

Yes, my job is to take vitals. That's one of the only things I can do with my limited clinical experience and nursing education. But I felt like my job, at least in this patient's room, was to listen.

I just listened to her cry. I listened to her struggle to find words for how much she wanted to be around for her kids. All I wanted in that moment was to take her cancer away. To take the struggle away and for her to stop hurting. I physically and emotionally couldn't handle her pain. I felt it too.

We left, only leaving her with the meaningless words "let us know if we can do anything for you". We all knew that there was nothing we could do for her, or offer her because it could not even begin to ease the pain.

I don't even know, but in that moment reality hit. It hit way too hard. But I needed it. It made all my stupid problems, stresses, petty drama seem so little in the scope of true reality.

Later, I had the opportunity to hold a patient's hand as she underwent a painful procedure. It was the first time I was able to comfort a patient. It doesn't seem like an important moment but it meant a lot to me that just by me holding her hand, she felt safer and cared for. I felt so valuable.

Those two moments reminded me why I went into this field. I love nursing. I love being a nurse. I love being able to comfort people I've never met by simply holding their hand. I love taking care of someone's mom, dad, friend, child. I love being able to be a part of someone's life, no matter where in their life I'm put; the beginning, the middle, or as of late, the end.

Being around people with cancer puts things into perspective. Is this or that seriously as important as I think it is? Most of the time, no. No matter the outcome of whatever I'm worried about, I will survive. I'll still be able to breathe, I'll still have a heartbeat.

That's what sucks about cancer. It takes all that away from you. People say that pain is weakness leaving the body. But in regards to cancer, part of me believes it's not weakness, but strength. I wish one day there will be a cure and that one day every person suffering from cancer can walk away victorious, with no signs of the evil, life-sucking disease anywhere in their body.

Until then, I'll continue being a nurse because that's what I love.