Written by: Luana Pereira, MA Clin. Psych., MSW, RSW

Many years later, during my bachelor in Psychology I was drawn to study Health Psychology and ended up conducting qualitative research with women who underwent mastectomies. No surprises here – I guess I was trying to understand, from a new perspective, my mom’s experience.

After my graduation I was mostly working in private practice, but I decided, again, to be involved in cancer care. I started working in a public hematology/oncology hospital in Brazil, this time with children and teens. That was extra though, and it made me learn so much about cancer-related trauma, meaning-making and how we, as professionals, can help a very challenging situation feel more manageable. In my role, I was caring for patients, families, and the healthcare team at the same time, they were all suffering. Having my peers around to debrief and support each other on hard days was essential.

I decided to go back to school for my masters in Clinical Psychology and dove into research one more time, listening to the impact of cancer for individuals who were still developing – physically and emotionally. I found that, even for children, making sense of their experience through narrative or playing, helped them process this potentially traumatic event in early life.

It was difficult to be present in so much pain and grief, but I felt that I was making a difference, and it was more rewarding than draining. I also learned to take care of myself to be able to be fully available for my patients. I could see how vicarious trauma, compassion-fatigue and burnout could easily take a tool.

Fast forward, living in Canada I had the privilege of working at the best hospitals in Toronto, and I find myself today as an oncology social worker, working primarily with breast cancer. I guess life has come full circle. I have the knowledge and clinical experience to care for these patients, and I don’t feel as powerless as I did before, as a teenager watching my mom go through this life-changing experience.

My clinician perspective now allows me to witness my patients suffering, growth, their unique journeys, and to support them, but also to learn from them. Cancer changes you in so many different ways: your body, your identity, your relationships, your plans… Together, we find meaning, identify needs, explore coping strategies, boost resilience, navigate uncharted territory, and reframe hope.

Often, at the end of a session, patients sigh and I can see their relief. They also ask me “how can you spend all day listening and talking about cancer, fear and grief?” I usually respond by saying that working with them gives me so much meaning; being allowed in and walking by their side is an honour; seeing them coping better with extremely hard situations is rewarding; and being reminded every day about the things that matter the most in life is a privilege.

Finally, as I can’t offer a patient’s perspective, I usually encourage people that I see to connect with peers, if they are interested. It could be a casual conversation, a support group, an activity. There is something very powerful and unique about sharing lived experiences and supporting one another – it’s a layer of support that we, as professionals, families, or friends, will never be able to provide. Holding space for these connections when facilitating a support group is also a part of my job that I love. There are many opportunities out there to feel validated, understood and seen – don’t hesitate to reach out.