I work as a pediatric oncologist. I treat children with cancer. The diagnosis of cancer in a child comes as a shock to the parents. Their whole world slips under their feet. They go in to a state of utter hopelessness. I have to break the diagnosis to them. The initial counselling session lasts an hour but I doubt it if the parents are able to grasp anything I say during this time. Small children just cuddle up with their mom's, the teens know that something is really bad. Fortunately majority of the Pediatric cancers have a cure rate of more than 80 percent. But there are some cancers like advanced Neuroblastoma, bone tumors and brain tumors that have dismal survival despite medical advances. To tell a family that a child with one of these advanced cancer has a very slim chance of cure breaks my heart. For some parents I become the villain at the moment. ‘How can he tell this news to us’, “has he gone out of his mind”, these are some of the things which go through their mind. After the initial phase of denial, the family slowly accepts. Majority of Pediatric cancers take 6 months to 3 years for treatment. The family sacrifices everything to come to the hospital. Mothers leave their other children with relatives, fathers lose their jobs as they don't get long leaves. The child, the main person in this difficult times is the most strongest physically, emotionally and mentally. The first few injections are associated with fear, anxiety and agitation but over the time they voluntarily extend their arms for blood tests and chemotherapy. They wince once when they are pricked and tears rarely roll down their cheek, after the test or chemotherapy is over they immediately rush to play with their friends, forgetting everything. Children carry no baggage, they know they will get better. They carry no animosity towards the doctors and nurses who treat them. In fact they love them. When I do morning rounds all of them will wish me ‘good morning doctor’, share their food with me, ask me to compete with them on games and start an impromptu jig at a drop of a hat. You form a bond with the family, it is a long journey for the doctor and the family, you become a part of their family. There are happy times, when you see the kids you treated going on to lead a normal life. Three of my patients have joined Medical school in the past few years. All of them want to become oncologist. The families share their school achievements on whatsapp and send their birthday photos. These small things bring a meaning to what I do. Then there are days when you feel why did you choose this profession. This happens when the cancer comes back or a child dies. “how did this happen doctor”, “you said he was cured”, “was your treatment wrong”, these are some of the questions I dread and makes me feel miserable and hopeless. Words don't come out of your mouth, you can feel a lump in your throat and you want to run away to a far away place. Majority of the parents accept the fact bravely and understand that your team did their best but there are some who scream at you and accuse you of killing their child, it is understandable, I don't blame them, losing your child is one of the worst nightmare for a parent. I have parents who lost their children to cancer still contacting me or visiting me to thank me, I wonder what have I done for them to thank me, I failed, I couldn't save their child and they still thank me for treating their child. I am waiting for the day when no child (or any individual) in the world dies of cancer. I am not sure how long I can sustain the emotional roller coaster I undergo every day, but I tell to myself, someone has to do this job and why not you be the someone Dr Venkatraman Source
