I think we all know that there are few people as strong as nurses.
The shifts are grueling and often thankless — though our hearts are always touched by the kind souls who always thank their nurses for being there.
Still, even a nurse who sees illness every day might not really understand what her patients are going through.
That was the story for Lindsay Norris, a 33-year-old mom and nurse from Kansas who worked in oncology — treating cancer patients — for years.
Then, in September 2016, the tables turned.
Norris was experiencing hemorrhoids after the birth of her second child — not uncommon after pregnancy — and got them checked out, just in case. After a few tests and scans, she learned that her piles were actually a symptom of Stage 3 rectal cancer.
Just like that, she went from nurse to patient, and she readily admits that, before the diagnosis, she "didn't get it."
Now, she's setting the record straight and apologizing to her former patients for not really understanding.
Scroll through below to read selections from her open letter.
You can also read her letter in full on her blog, Here Comes the Sun.
Dear every cancer patient I ever took care of,
I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.
This thought has been weighing heavy on my heart since my diagnosis. I’ve worked in oncology nearly my entire adult life.
I started rooming and scheduling patients, then worked as a nursing assistant through school, and finally as a nurse in both the inpatient and outpatient settings.
I prided myself in connecting with my patients and helping them manage their cancer and everything that comes with it.
I really thought I got it- I really thought I knew what it felt like to go through this journey. I didn’t.
I didn’t get how hard the waiting is. It’s literally the worst part. The diagnosis process takes forever.
The different consults, the biopsies, the exams and procedures… and the scans. Ugh, the scans.
You were going through the motions trying to stay positive- but at that point, you had no idea what you were dealing with and the unknown was terrifying.
Knowing the cancer is there and knowing you’re not doing anything to treat is yet is an awful, helpless feeling. I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.
I didn’t get what it felt like to get the sad looks all the time. Walking down the hall at work or seeing someone for the first time after finding out.
You got the head tilt with a soft “how aaaare you?” You quickly got together your rehearsed “Doing pretty good, tired but hanging in there”generic response.
Don’t get me wrong, I know you appreciated all the well wishes and concern- but it sure took a little while to get used to the pity. I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.
I didn’t get how weird it felt to be called “brave”.
It’s a word that gets thrown around a lot, yeah it kind of made you feel good- but you still didn’t really understand why people would call you this.
Sure you were getting through it fine (most days), but it’s not like you had a choice.
I’m getting treatment because I have to- doesn’t really make me feel like much of a hero. I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.
I didn’t get how strange it was to see your body changing so quickly.
You stood there and looked at yourself in disbelief in the mirror. Maybe it was extreme swelling, maybe it was scars, maybe it was hair loss, maybe it was pounds melting away when you do everything in your power to eat as much as you can.
It’s hard- your appearance is tied more closely to your identity than you’d like to admit and these were constant reminders of what you were up against. You just wanted to feel like yourself. I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.
I didn’t get that it hurts to be left out. People didn’t invite you to things anymore.
People felt like they can’t complain or vent about every day annoyances to you anymore. People acted differently towards you and it hurt a bit.
You certainly didn’t blame them- you had even done the same to others when traumatic life events happened—and no you didn’t want to go out for drinks anyway because you don’t feel good.
But you needed normalcy. I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.
I didn’t get the guilt you felt. Especially to those who are married.
You thought about how unfair it was that your spouse had to pick up so much slack- mentally to help keep you focused and calm, and physically at home pulling double weight with never-ending every day chores.
You understood that everyone promises “in sickness and in health” when you get married- but you still felt like they didn’t deserve this.
You felt thankful when your spouse would say “go get some rest and I’ll take care of the kids” but your heart hurt overhearing them play in the other room away from you- wondering if that was a glimpse into their future that didn’t have you in it. I’m sorry. I didn’t get it.
I do have to admit; I’ve probably had it a little easier than you to start off. I know the language, I know all the right people, I work where I get treatment so sure- it’s more convenient.
I watched so many of you march through this terrible nightmare with a brave face and determination- without knowing one thing about cancer ahead of time, other than knowing you didn’t ever want to get it.
You’ve always been my inspiration and I love each and every one of you. Nothing brings me more joy that when I see you reach your goals and slowly put yourself back together. I love when we get visits or notes from those of you who are several years out and doing great- it’s good for the oncology nurses’ soul.
Even though healthcare workers don’t really know what it’s like to be you (well, us) it’s ok. Nobody does.
I just hope that I was still able to give you a little guidance and strength to help you get through your cancer treatment. Even if I didn’t get it.
Love,
Lindsay, Oncology RN
Did your heart melt reading Norris' powerful words? Read her entire letter on her blog Here Comes the Sun, and learn more about colorectal cancer on the American Cancer Society website.
Don't forget to SHARE this incredible story with folks on both sides of the nurse and patient equation.
