How to explain the emotions that are triggered at Juravinski. Maybe just calling it by its full name...Juravinski Cancer Centre. It doesn't shy from its name...and when you are there, it hits you.
As T said, everyone here is sick. Not just at a hospital with an injury, or an important surgery, but...sick. It hits me when I see the handsome young man, the same age as my oldest son, walking out of the lab ahead of me with his mom & dad following him.
As the first week wears on, you no longer are startled by the baldness, or scarves and then you start to identify the number of women wearing wigs.
Your heart hurts for the parents walking or waiting with their children knowing that children are only at Juravinski for brain tumors.
You recognize the fears of those who have arrived for the first time, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, you hear the nervous laughter.
You see the mask of depression on the face of a middle-aged man, first chemo, wife there to support, but, he is only speaking briefly to questions from the nurse. Hurting, sad. alone inside himself. Gentle kindness wrapping him by nurse and wife for the moment he comes back.
You witness that gentle kindness everywhere:
Mom with daughter arrives to first diagnostic appointment, then another daughter comes in, and a bit later a third..."I thought you weren't coming". "it's too far". ..."Mom, I couldn't not be here".
Family arrives in cafe, mom, dad, 2 daughters. Dad and one daughter leave for washroom, and once gone, mom's face breaks and daughter holds her. Bad news arrived that day. Mom pulls it together before spouse and daughter returned. Strain evident in all. Gentle kindness as they held each other in this scary time.
You see it in the simple things, the people seeing you possibly lost, asking if you need directions or assistance.
You see it in the companions that walk the journey. People like J being there to listen and reflect. T travelling and setting life aside to accompany. Families present with their aging parents, The elder man whose 3 adult sons were there with him, passing the breeze between appointments.
You see it in the staff. The receptionist coming out from behind the desk to help and escort a woman nervous travelling alone to her first radiation, gently walking and chatting with her. The lab worker who wears mickey mouse pins on her lanyard, because many adults smile at Mickey.
Death, sickness, risk are in this space, but, they don't own it.
The lightness of the building's architecture compliment the staff's attitudes. I cannot describe it, and will try to unpack how the organizational structures and staff do it. Attitude? Compassion? Seeing humans not patients? I'm not sure , but, it is pervasive in the facility.
Whatever it is, it carries through, attitude is contagious. Patients and their support teams help the newbies.
The light expands. Somehow in a place full of darkness it is pushed to the corners....and in so doing, the burdens of those inside are lessened.
As T said, everyone here is sick. Not just at a hospital with an injury, or an important surgery, but...sick. It hits me when I see the handsome young man, the same age as my oldest son, walking out of the lab ahead of me with his mom & dad following him.
As the first week wears on, you no longer are startled by the baldness, or scarves and then you start to identify the number of women wearing wigs.
Your heart hurts for the parents walking or waiting with their children knowing that children are only at Juravinski for brain tumors.
You recognize the fears of those who have arrived for the first time, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, you hear the nervous laughter.
You see the mask of depression on the face of a middle-aged man, first chemo, wife there to support, but, he is only speaking briefly to questions from the nurse. Hurting, sad. alone inside himself. Gentle kindness wrapping him by nurse and wife for the moment he comes back.
You witness that gentle kindness everywhere:
Mom with daughter arrives to first diagnostic appointment, then another daughter comes in, and a bit later a third..."I thought you weren't coming". "it's too far". ..."Mom, I couldn't not be here".
Family arrives in cafe, mom, dad, 2 daughters. Dad and one daughter leave for washroom, and once gone, mom's face breaks and daughter holds her. Bad news arrived that day. Mom pulls it together before spouse and daughter returned. Strain evident in all. Gentle kindness as they held each other in this scary time.
You see it in the simple things, the people seeing you possibly lost, asking if you need directions or assistance.
You see it in the companions that walk the journey. People like J being there to listen and reflect. T travelling and setting life aside to accompany. Families present with their aging parents, The elder man whose 3 adult sons were there with him, passing the breeze between appointments.
You see it in the staff. The receptionist coming out from behind the desk to help and escort a woman nervous travelling alone to her first radiation, gently walking and chatting with her. The lab worker who wears mickey mouse pins on her lanyard, because many adults smile at Mickey.
Death, sickness, risk are in this space, but, they don't own it.
The lightness of the building's architecture compliment the staff's attitudes. I cannot describe it, and will try to unpack how the organizational structures and staff do it. Attitude? Compassion? Seeing humans not patients? I'm not sure , but, it is pervasive in the facility.
Whatever it is, it carries through, attitude is contagious. Patients and their support teams help the newbies.
The light expands. Somehow in a place full of darkness it is pushed to the corners....and in so doing, the burdens of those inside are lessened.
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