Alene Nitzky, PhD, RN, works in an outpatient oncology clinic. She has an interest in survivorship and wellness. An ultramarathon runner, writer, and pastel artist, she enjoys spending time with her husband and their two Australian Shepherds and sees every day as an adventure. Her blog, Journey to Badwater, is about running and life. She lives in Fort Collins, Colorado. --
I just got back from a long road trip across Nebraska and Iowa, traveling to a race for which I’ve trained for some time. I took 11 days off of work, and it was over 800 miles of driving in each direction. I thought driving would allow me time to think and focus on some loose ideas that have been rattling around in my brain.
I am fortunate to work in a unit with strong support and a nurturing feeling among the staff. This past week I’ve been struggling with grief from a personal loss related to cancer but not one of my own patients. It’s been hard to go about my business each day.
As healthcare professionals, like anyone else, we operate on a number of assumptions that we know what’s best for patients and their families. Even though we have to allow them to make their own decisions and live with those choices, we try to keep open minds. Many times, what patients or family members choose is not what we would choose, either for them or for ourselves.
We know nothing is guaranteed, and things will always change. We have to live with the uncertainty, and as individuals, we have to look out for our own financial and occupational well-being. Can we sustain our profession? Will our profession sustain us?
One of the most frustrating things about cancer treatment and other conditions that result in fatigue and impaired cognition, such as hypothyroidism when it isn’t adequately treated or autoimmune disease, is the brain fog that goes along with it. I have hypothyroidism, and I don’t feel good when I can’t think clearly.