Patti Branowicki
A unique perspective
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I first became a nurse because I had a passion for improving patient care. Now, having gone through this experience, I have a renewed passion and a unique perspective. Until you hear the words, "You have cancer," you can never fully understand what it is like. You can think you know, and you can try as hard as possible to understand and empathize with people, but until you hear those words for yourself, you can never comprehend how its feels to face your own mortality this way. It is a frightening and life-altering experience. I am committed to finding ways to help individuals who have this disease.
On top of the emotional issues of dealing with cancer, there are the physical ones — like losing your hair. About 10 days after I received the drug Taxol, I arranged for a hairdresser to come to my house to cut my hair before it was expected to fall out. Since I was still not driving, my friend and colleague, Herminia Shermont, director of surgical services at Children's, drove me home.
We both remember the ride as a long one. I dreaded this moment because losing your hair makes your diagnosis public, and I felt as though I was surrendering control of my life. Other than the day I was diagnosed, the day the hairdresser cut my hair was about the saddest. I couldn't stop crying, and the tears continued for nearly 12 hours. My husband was kind and reassuring, but he honestly did not know what to do for me.
When I came back to work with the wig, I felt as though it was entering the room before I did. I credit everyone here at Children's and Dana-Farber for treating me like a person. Although I didn't look like myself physically, they acted just as they always had.
Once my disease became physically apparent to others, people would approach me in the supermarket or other public places and ask, "Do you have cancer?" Once I confirmed that I did, they'd share their own cancer stories. Sometimes, others asked about the experience. People were often curious about what it was like to undergo chemotherapy or lose your hair.
These encounters reminded me that I had become part of a group - one I never expected or wanted to join. Obviously, I wish I'd never received this diagnosis, but the experience has not been entirely negative. It has forced me to reevaluate my priorities and to cherish each day. I always thought that I respected the value of life, but once I confronted the fact that my life might be briefer than I'd originally thought, I realized there were still many things I wanted to accomplish. My husband and I - we've been together since I was 15 years old - have made a pact to do something special each month.
The cancer experience has also helped me realize how much people care about me and appreciate the contributions I have made, both personally and professionally. The outpouring of support I have received has been overwhelming.
Life will never be the same again. Cancer changes you forever. I don't think it has made me stronger; I was always a strong person. I can say, however, that it has taken every ounce of courage to get through the past 10 months. I have had to pull it from areas of myself that I never knew existed. I have also witnessed strength in others, as well, especially in my husband and extended family.
So, while I may have jumped off that cliff a year ago February, I landed on my feet in September. My follow-up scans and lab results are negative for cancer so far. I don't know what the future holds for me, but for now I wake up every morning, open my eyes, and thank God for giving me another day.
Patti Branowicki, MS, RN, serves as vice president for medicine patient services at Children's Hospital Boston and director of nursing and patient services for pediatric oncology at Dana-Farber.
This story first appeared in the Winter/Spring 2003 issue of Paths of Progress.
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