Pediatric oncology nurses fill a critical family support role — and sometimes their expertise is in a well-timed hug. 

Katniss Everdeen is a good hugger.

I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that Katniss Everdeen is a fictional character from the Hunger Games movies. While that may be true, in 2013 one of my son’s nurses dressed as Katniss for Halloween. She gave me a hug when I needed it most.

My son, C.J., was going through a particularly rough time in his treatment for chronic myelogenous leukemia (CML). We felt like we were playing Whac-A-Mole chasing his symptoms. Every time we had a handle on some new and brutal side effect, another one would pop up. That Halloween, C.J.’s favorite holiday, was a tough one. C.J. was already two years into his treatment and by then had spent every major holiday in the hospital. We were all over it and just wished that our once vibrant son could be home trick-or-treating with his friends.

C.J. was diagnosed with CML when he was 11 years old, and our family spent the next two-and-a-half years alongside him while he fought the most courageous battle I have ever known. At one point during C.J.’s fight, he was in-patient for over eight long months. Needless to say, we got to know our nurses very, very well. 

When your child is in the hospital battling cancer, you wait (sometimes patiently, sometimes not so patiently) for your doctor to come in during rounds and give you the news. How’s my kid doing? What do the labs/scans/results say today and when can we go home? 

But it’s the nurses who do the heavy and consistent lifting of taking care of your child and your whole family. On more than one occasion, a couple of C.J.’s nurses would throw a sisterly arm around the shoulder of our daughter, Gabby, and take her for a walk around the floor. They would ask how she was doing in high school and how volleyball was going and give her the attention that she needed and deserved. I don’t know how they gave of themselves so generously, but Gabby felt cared for and seen.

Pediatric oncology nurses are a special breed. They are positive and gentle even as they are giving medicine that is so poisonous they have to don gowns and gloves to avoid making themselves sick. The special ones go out of their way to avoid waking you in the night when they come in and draw blood or take vitals. We dubbed our favorite night nurse “The Ninja” because he would slip in so quietly that we didn’t notice until he was leaving. The things that look small from the outside are the things that make a big difference. 

And sometimes, a nurse sees you come out of your child’s room at 3 am on Halloween and they recognize the look of a mom who is trying desperately to hold it together after spending days watching her child struggle. And at that moment, they ask if they can give you a hug. And you don’t have to talk about the knot in your throat and the fear in your heart. Instead, your nurse gives you the space to relax your shoulders and cry a few quiet tears until you are ready to go back in and face the monsters threatening your son again.

That’s what my nurse did for me, and I have never forgotten it. 

Updated:

May 1, 2024

First Published: