Pediatric Oncology Nurse

An Insight into Another’s Vocation 

by 

Bailey Fairess 

Note: This post was written by an Our Lady of the Lake College Student in Fall 2016. 

As I step into the frigid and lengthy hallway of OLOL hospital, I notice something. The night shift is very still, very silent. I can almost hear myself breathing; the gift shop and restaurants are shut down for the night, and there is not a soul in this corridor except for me. I am supposed to be meeting Mrs. Kelly T., a pediatric oncology nurse for a job shadow, and I find myself suddenly nervous. Whether the nerves are from anticipation, anxiety, or simply my body’s reaction to the chilling air of the hospital, I do not know. She walks up to me with a friendly smile and because she must have picked up on the nerves, ensures me that it is going to be a very interesting night. We venture toward the third floor of the hospital, or “PEDS 3”, and she begins to describe everything she does in a shift. She speaks with such passion and excitement; it is like it is her first day on the job. 

“Hey Carla, how are ya tonight?” She is incredibly friendly with her coworker, who makes a joke or two about the night shift and being fatigued, and we continue to walk. We arrive at the nurses’ station, where she tells me how we will open the night shift and the process that will take place to make sure each patient is up-to-date with their vital check-up and medication. She checks each chart very carefully, making sure she does not miss a thing. It is obvious that she cares deeply for these kids. 

While moving from room to room, she speaks to these children as if they are her own, even though she may have met them less than thirty minutes ago. She is friendly, and the children pick up on it. I smile as one little boy, no older than three, looks at me and says “hey! I can’t figure out this remote to the tv!”. Mrs. Kelly giggles and helps the little boy, acting as if the remote is her most valued task for the night. She grew up in a big family with a lot of siblings, so her love for children is natural. She has three children herself, and spends all her time with them when she is not with her children at work. Her passion for pediatrics is so strong that in her twenty-four years of experience as a nurse, she has never switched to another area. She has been offered other jobs, but insists on staying in pediatrics. This passion shows through her work, and I make a mental note of how much I enjoy watching her with the kids. Although they may be very sick, her presence alone is enough to make them smile. 

We move through the night with ease. Two children are sent up to the HemOnc floor (Hematology and Oncology) and we are assigned to them. One little boy has sickle-cell disease and requires a blood transfusion, and the other little girl is suffering from leukemia. I can only imagine that dealing with children who have cancer day in and day out can be mentally and emotionally draining; however, Mrs. Kelly has a different perspective. She tells me how rewarding it is getting to know the family and seeing them complete their goals. While some of these goals may be minor, such as attending prom or graduating high school, the looks on the kids’ faces when they achieve such goals is what brings her the most joy. She mentions how childhood cancer has a very high survival rate, and the hardest part is the journey. Chemotherapy can be tough on anyone, especially a child. However, the spirt and happiness of these children is something that makes the whole situation a lot less somber. I notice this as we make our rounds. The children have tiny tubes coming out of everywhere- one for saline, one for oxygen, one for blood, etc. This is enough to make me uneasy and emotional, but the children continuously look at us with wide grins and some are even alert and perky enough to ask for more apple juice. 

Mrs. Kelly and I hurriedly walk down the white tile path to the blood bank. The five-year-old with sickle-cell needs a blood transfusion; his temperature is much too high and his blood cell counts are completely off. I wonder how she finds all of this so interesting, the good and the bad. I notice that even while walking down this hallway to retrieve blood for a small child she is smiling from ear to ear. I learn, though, that it is because she feels called to do this. She loves taking care of children, no matter the case. They give her a purpose in life, an inspiration if you will. She describes how the job can be demanding because she must work with both the children and the parents, but mentions that the good far outweighs the bad. 

“There you go, lay your head back down on the pillow.” It is now nearing three in the morning, and we have just completed the blood transfusion. I follow Mrs. Kelly’s lead by smiling at the child’s mother, whispering because the boy is sleeping, and then squeezing a large amount of hand sanitizer into my hands. That is another expectation when one is working with children. Sanitize in and out of the rooms. With the children sound asleep, and vitals in check, we make our way down to the cafeteria for a break. As I am sipping on my sweet tea, which is odd for three-thirty in the morning, and look at her smiling face, I wonder if there has ever been a case that has gotten her down. There were two instances in which children with bone cancer had to get their legs amputated, but even then, Mrs. Kelly could look at the positives and help them overcome that obstacle. 

While observing Mrs. Kelly during a full shift as a pediatric oncology nurse, I came to several realizations. It is incredibly important to not judge or make assumptions about an occupation prior to seeing someone in that element. Mrs. Kelly, being the happiest of people, remained joyful and influential on the HemOnc floor and makes incredible impacts on the lives of children every day. She knows that this is where she belongs, because her passion and desire for helping children is so strong. She truly believes that they have just as big of an impact on her life as she does theirs, and she lives with a certain enthusiasm towards her career that I only hope I will have one day.