Thanksgiving on the Bone Marrow Transplant Unit: A Nurse's Story

The contrast never fails to catch my attention regarding what occurs in the oncology unit. It seems to be a completely different world to those caring for one with cancer. I am not saying that cancer cannot affect the rich and famous, for it does.

Cancer is not prejudice, for it touches all races, crosses all social strata, and wreaks havoc in the young as well as the old. There is nothing just or fair about cancer, except perhaps, in some cases, it provides a warning, an opportunity to prepare, a window of time to cherish what otherwise might not be cherished. Such is the case on one particular Thanksgiving Day.

It was my year to work Thanksgiving. We all took turns working the holiday, so no pity party for me. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday, so it does require a little self-talk for me to give my best at my work, but I try to look for opportunities to be a blessing to others. In this situation, my patients were tremendous blessings to me.

I was assigned to the stem cell transplant unit. The shift started with a busy routine: doing morning assessments, administering dozens of medications, and tending to the needs of the families. Such is a typical day in oncology, especially in the transplant unit. I love interacting with patients and families, so this work is fulfilling.

In the afternoon, I was making my usual rounds of checking on my patients when a sobering thought took hold. Today is Thanksgiving, and these precious patients of mine were not only in a hospital room but in the bone marrow transplant unit. This meant the usual hospital stay was 20-30 days if all went as expected, without complications. These children would not feel the warmth of sunshine or play outside for at least a month, but in many cases, much longer.

Self-pity was not something these parents or children had time for. Complaining was not something that defined these patients.

As I silenced an IV pump, I entered the room of one mother who had spread a festive tablecloth on the table beside her son's bed. Parental nutrition (TPN and lipids) was this patient's nutrition, but today, this mother would celebrate the day despite the diet.

She decorated the table with his favorite toys and Dallas Cowboy items. She made the hospital room festive.

This same family passed out Thanksgiving decorations to other families on the unit. They purchased special indoor bicycles for the children who underwent a stem cell transplant. Amid their own pain, they were a blessing to others.

As I entered the room of my next patient, the mother was in bed with her 3-year-old son, who was unable to eat due to a diagnosis that affected his gastrointestinal tract. She decided she would not eat either. She told me how she had seen God's hand of protection over her son in the past year.

I paused to listen to her. I pondered my thoughts of caring for my children, one whose days were numbered. My heart was filled with gratitude for what I have.

As I entered the third room, I heard cheering going on. My teen patient had been fighting cancer for over a year; he had to have a second bone marrow transplant. I knew that he was in great pain, but somehow, he always managed to crack a joke with me.

Present in his room, he and his dad had created a tailgate party as they watched the Dallas Cowboys football game, as was their tradition every Thanksgiving. They refused to allow even cancer and a transplant to stop them from carrying on a unique Thanksgiving tradition.

I walked back to my desk to chart when it suddenly dawned on me: Thanksgiving isn't always about the traditional turkey, mashed potatoes, and stuffing dinner gathered around a festively decorated table with grandparents and loved ones. Instead, it can also be about the cherished memories parents create with their children. In the case of the teenage boy, this was his last Thanksgiving (he died later the following summer).

I finished my shift that evening with a changed perspective. I had a new perspective on Thanksgiving.

I have often complained about not having the perfect Thanksgiving table setting, lumpy gravy, or more significant things like missing my dad or changing my expectations of Thanksgiving so my married daughters can be with their in-laws. I can start to have a pity party for myself.

However, the year I worked on the bone marrow transplant unit on Thanksgiving has changed my perspective. It is often understated, but this cannot be overstated: I (we) have much to be thankful for.

I was so challenged by these three parents who were determined to make Thanksgiving something to be remembered and celebrated, even if it was with TPN and lipids, IV fluids, and confinement to the walls of the stem cell transplant unit.

They found a way to celebrate Thanksgiving.

About the Author:

Laura Miller has been a pediatric nurse for nearly 40 years, most of her career at a local pediatric hospital, providing bedside care in pediatric intensive care, cardiac, trauma, and neonatal intensive care, oncology, stem cell transplant, and acute care. She obtained the following certifications: CCRN, CPHON, and CPN. Laura has also served briefly as a school nurse. She is currently working on her Master of Nursing Education degree, which she plans to complete soon.

At home, Laura is a mother to nine children, four by birth and five through adoption from foster care, and ten grandchildren. During her spare time, Laura enjoys jogging, hiking, and having a meaningful life.

Laura is an independent contributor to CEUfast's Nursing Blog Program. Please note that the views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in this blog post are solely of the independent contributor and do not necessarily represent those of CEUfast. This blog post is not medical advice. Always consult with your personal healthcare provider for any health-related questions or concerns.

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