Sun Sentinel Palm Beach Edition
After decades of hospital work, what my sister’s cancer taught me
I’ve spent my entire adult life in and around hospitals, working for nearly 40 years as both a nurse and administrator. During that time, I’ve had lots of difficult conversations with patients and families, sometimes about life and death, and the delicate balance that exists between those two for those receiving care for the most serious illnesses.
But when cancer invades your own family, and the patient is your big sister, the news hits different. That was the situation we faced a little more than two years ago when Norma was diagnosed with multiple myeloma.
Cancer is a gut punch not just to the person with the disease, but also his or her entire family, and my sister’s age, comorbidities and our familial history provided no guarantees of survival.
What Norma needed most in that moment (and all the ones that followed), was hope, faith and courage. What her family needed, including the sibling that had spent decades in health care, was a trusted expert whose words, mannerisms and actions communicated a sense of “don’t worry, we’ve got this.”
My experience taught me it was critical to find a healing environment that can nurture and guide everyone through the crisis. This goes far beyond just the primary oncologist, as nurses, respiratory therapists, navigators and other support staff also play critical roles. Patients and their families must have confidence that the professionals they’ve entrusted can deliver the clinical expertise, experience and compassion they need.
I share this because with approximately 2 million new cases of cancer diagnosed in the United States in 2023, local families will be looking for the same reassurance that ours did. We took solace in the belief that Norma was in the right hands with the Moffitt Malignant Hematology and Cellular Therapy program at Memorial Healthcare System.
Their expertise provided us the comfort to focus not on the clinical aspects of the disease that we didn’t understand, but on maintaining the emotional and spiritual well-being that Norma would need. While I took on the role of my sister’s primary advocate, she also required the hope, faith and strength others could provide. Fear, worry and panic are the enemies of recovery, and it was critical we all helped each other keep those feelings at bay.
Knowing so many are dealing with the many forms of cancer, it’s especially gratifying, as both a sibling and health care executive, that Memorial has invested $125 million in a comprehensive cancer institute in Pembroke Pines.
With its expanded capacity, more
South Floridians will now be able to receive the high-tech, high-touch care Norma required to confront her biggest challenge. And while that care means availability of the latest research and treatments, the wide variety of support services that address mental and spiritual well-being, for both patients and families, is an aspect of care that shouldn’t be overlooked. That enabled our family to find the strength that helped us lift our loved one during her lowest times.
Gardens where patients and families can enjoy being outdoors, spaces to reflect and meditate, and a spa-like environment at the Center for Body, Mind and Spirit are other aspects of patient and family-centered care that I’m proud have been included in the new facility.
It’s a cliché to mention how it’s the little things that make a difference, but what I learned during Norma’s long and arduous cancer journey was that those weren’t little things at all.
For my sister, it was a case of being in the right place at the right time. She had just relocated to South Florida when she was diagnosed, and the multiple myeloma was discovered early. There was still a nearly two-year journey that included rounds of chemotherapy, a stem cell transplant and ongoing maintenance therapy, but I’m happy to report Norma is now in remission, celebrating life with gratitude, and humbled that her life was saved.