What's Your Story?

Courtney J. Parrisher - Vice President of Education & Policy

I don't think my story is going to be too original, as I believe there are less people in the world now that have not been affected by cancer in some way compared to those who have.  If you truly think about it, we've all been affected one way or another, whether there's a personal history, a family history, or just knowing someone that has/had cancer.  My story, however, is one I'm very proud of.

I started out as a nurse in 2014.  At that time, all I knew is that I wanted to work with cancer patients.  Sounds like a pretty noble career, right? Something you can go around town and tell folks you work with one of the most sensitive populations of people in the world.  Most folks will respond with "bless your heart" (and mean it in a happy way), and some will even claim that there's a special place in Heaven for you, or you must have a heart for it.  All of those things would be true for me, but little did I know that my entire world would be consumed by the dreaded "C word."

In 2001, my maternal aunt died from metastatic melanoma at the ripe age of 24 years old.  Half of us haven't even finished growing by then, I'm convinced.  As the years went by, I felt a pull to honor her by going into nursing school and work with those same patients.  I feel like I skated by the grips of cancer until 2019 when my father was diagnosed and died from hepatocellular carcinoma, or liver cancer, after only 9 days from receiving his official diagnosis.  As you can imagine, we had no time: for treatment, for goodbyes, for final wishes, for more time.  During that time, my maternal uncle was also diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and died from his disease very shortly after his diagnosis.  A day or so prior to my uncle's passing, my mother felt a lump on the side of my stepfather's neck.  

Seriously... not again...

My stepfather endured surgery to remove over 40 lymph nodes from his neck, dental procedures to remove teeth, chemo port insertion, 39 radiation treatments, 6 chemotherapy treatments, 39 study drug infusions, on top of multiple calls placed to our triage nurse and nurse navigator to help us control the symptoms.  Many of those days I dubbed "Bring Your Stepdad To Work Day", as he was becoming too weak to drive and he was receiving treatment at the facility where I worked. 

Although I was already deeply invested in the oncology world, these experiences renewed my sense of love and pride for oncology.  I don't think Webster could fathom the correct combinations of words to express the honor and pleasure I feel by having even the slightest role in a patient's cancer journey.  My only hope is that the Lord Himself understands my heart and each tear shed when I think of my patients: past and present.  I pray that one day there's a cure to be found and I'm forced with having to find a new job for the sake of so many lives lost, but for now, I find my purpose in loving on those brave enough to fight the hardest battle.