Today was my dad’s birthday. I say it was his birthday because I’ve never really gotten on board with the idea of wishing someone a happy birthday who is no longer here. Earlier today I was thinking of his last birthday, and have grown so appreciative that I got to spend that day with him.
Summer, 2004 – just before diagnosis
Winter, 2004: 3 months before Autologous Stem-Cell Transplant at MSKCC
On what would be his last birthday, his 65th, he spent the entire day receiving a heavy-duty chemo regimen at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center. As is the usual routine in a chemo suite, the nurses confirmed his name and date of birth while prepping him for his treatment and realized it was his birthday. After receiving pre-meds, and sleeping on and off throughout the treatment, our nurse pulled back the curtain to see how he was doing. He reported (his usual) that he was doing okay. The treatment concluded, it was the end of the day, and just as we were getting ready to leave, a group of nurses came over with a birthday cake and we all belted out a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday. It was his last birthday and he passed away 3 months later.
To be honest, at the time, I knew the prognosis was terribly bleak. I had seen the PET scan results 3 weeks prior and knew time was not on our side and he knew it too. An oatmeal-eating, marathon runner, my dad was incredibly healthy until his immune system went haywire 18 months earlier and he was diagnosed with Stage IV Blastic Mantle-Cell Lymphoma (a type of Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma). Had his immune system not gone offline, I am confident he would’ve lived until his mid-90’s.
This wasn’t meant to be a total downer post. My intention was to convey a positive message but I am failing miserably at the moment. Here’s the takeaway. I think back to that day with such appreciation for those nurses. Just another busy shift for them, and yet they took the time to care and tried to improve the circumstances. A perfect example of improving patient experience – not through competent clinical care, but by going beyond it and offering the human component that is often left behind. Compassion. Building in a few extra minutes when it is so busy and connecting with the patient and their family. I know we thought it was a very kind gesture at the time and we were appreciative. But it is years later that I look back with gratitude for what they did that day.
September 2005, Light The Night Walk over the Brooklyn Bridge
Every day at MSKCC and many other hospitals, there are oncology nurses, physicians, and other clinical and non-clinical personnel doing an incredibly difficult job. I am truly appreciative of their care and compassion.
•Linda Scruggs is a nurse, digital health enthusiast, blogger, and mother of 2 young children. She founded the first online nursing support site for fertility patients at MOMtility, by offering nursing support that steps beyond the walls of a traditional medical practice. As a nurse, Scruggs believes that social media can serve as the platform to transform healthcare delivery into a boundless, patient-centered system.
Thank you for sharing about your dad. We just “celebrated” what would have been my dad’s 69th birthday this past Friday. He passed away in April of last year and I too, have a challenging time with wishing him a happy birthday when he isn’t here anymore. I appreciate your reminder of the nurses and caregivers. We had some wonderful hospice nurses and counselors coming to the house at the end that really eased the transition for us all (((hugs)))
Hey Julie, thanks so much for reading. I’m sorry to hear about your dad. I lost mine in April, too (of 2006). I appreciate the comment. You’d get a kick out of an upcoming post I’m drafting – I have to keep checking nomenclature. 😉