What ‘Stronger Than Chemo’ Means

During a safety huddle, one of my colleagues, an oncology nurse and breast cancer survivor, spoke honestly about what cancer felt like to her. “Every day you’re scared. Is the treatment or the cancer going to kill me?” she said. “You think about it all the time.” Her words struck me because of how open and exposed they felt. There was nothing polished or inspirational about them. Just honesty.

woman looking at spacious landscapeFor oncology nurses, a day at work may feel like another clinic day, another infusion, another patient assignment. But patients walk into the same space carrying entirely different realities. Fear. Grief. Uncertainty. Hope. Devastating news. Relief. Sometimes all at once. Her words reminded me how important it is to respect that difference and remain mindful of it.

I remember entering a patient’s room smiling ear to ear. She asked me why I was so happy. Without thinking, I answered, “It’s a good day.” Looking back, that response feels insensitive. I later learned that earlier that day she had been told her cancer was metastatic. Shortly after I left the room, I heard her sobbing behind the curtain. That moment stayed with me because what felt like an ordinary good day to me was […]

2026-06-15T09:57:20-04:00June 15th, 2026|Nursing, nursing perspective, Oncology nursing, patient experience, Patients|1 Comment
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Helping Patients Live Inside Changing Realities

Why earlier palliative care conversations matter in oncology nursing

Image of oncology nurse and a patient discussing palliative care options in a warm and supportive settingOne patient I still think about came in frequently for supportive care visits. Technically, the appointments were straightforward. She was there for things like IV fluids or symptom management. But her visits were rarely simple. She had questions about labs, treatment side effects, fatigue, and what different changes in her body meant. Over time, our conversations expanded beyond the immediate medical task in front of us.

She talked about how much harder everyday life had become. She tired easily. Walking longer distances became difficult. She was losing independence in ways that frightened her. Eventually, we began talking about mobility aids. She did not want a walker or wheelchair. To her, they represented loss.

I remember trying to reframe the conversation. I told her that using a walker did not mean she had stopped living fully. If being outdoors mattered to her, then the goal was not preserving the image of how she used to move through the world. The goal was helping her continue participating in the parts of life she still loved. A wheelchair might allow her to […]

2026-05-19T12:02:50-04:00May 19th, 2026|Nursing, Oncology nursing, Palliative care|0 Comments
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How to Keep Caring Without Breaking

Recently, a nurse asked publicly how others cope with empathy fatigue.

It struck me that the question itself was brave.

Empathy fatigue (more often called compassion fatigue) is easy to mislabel. It can present as irritability, detachment, or impatience. It can look like burnout. It can feel like failure. But often, it is something quieter and more specific: the accumulation of caring deeply for a long time.

The subtle internal shift signaling empathy fatigue.

The most dangerous part of empathy fatigue isn’t exhaustion. It’s the subtle shift.

It’s the moment you feel yourself pulling back. The internal eye roll that surprises you. The thought you don’t like having. The faint edge of resentment where compassion once felt natural.

That shift is uncomfortable. But it is also a signal.

In oncology, relationships are not brief. We see patients repeatedly. We learn their children’s names. We know when scans are coming. We recognize the weight in their voices before they say anything at all. Over time, that proximity to suffering accumulates. Grief does not arrive all at once. It layers.

Empathy fatigue is not evidence that we care less. It is often evidence that we have cared continuously.

Left unnamed, however, it can harden into something else. Resentment is not dramatic; it is […]

2026-03-17T11:25:37-04:00March 17th, 2026|Nursing, nursing perspective, Oncology nursing|0 Comments
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Fatigue in the Infusion Chair: Making Our Teaching Count

Cancer-related fatigue: not ordinary tiredness.

Image via Shutterstock

“I’m just really tired.”

She says it quietly, almost apologetically, while I’m flushing her port. If I’m not careful, I could nod and say, “That’s common,” and move on. But over time, I’ve learned that when a patient says “tired,” they’re often describing something much bigger.

Cancer-related fatigue isn’t the kind of tired that comes after a long day. It’s not fixed by a good night’s sleep. It’s the kind that makes someone say, “If I shower, I have to rest before I can get dressed,” or “If I cook dinner, that’s it for the day.”

In the infusion chair, fatigue is everywhere. During chemotherapy and radiation, most patients experience it at some point. For some, it lingers long after treatment ends. And when fatigue begins to interfere with daily life—cooking, driving, bathing, managing medications—it quietly erodes independence.

Talking to patients about fatigue.

But fatigue conversations are easy to rush. We have vitals to check, labs to review, medications to hang. It’s tempting to treat fatigue as expected background noise. I’ve found that the difference between a rushed fatigue conversation and a meaningful one often comes down to slowing down by just a minute.

Instead of asking only, “How tired are you?” I try to […]

2026-03-04T14:07:41-05:00March 4th, 2026|Nursing, Oncology nursing, patient experience, Patients|2 Comments
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Views expressed on the blog are solely those of the authors or persons quoted. They do not necessarily reflect AJN’s views or those of Wolters Kluwer Health/Lippincott Williams and Wilkins.
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