Everyday interaction makes ‘miracle’ happen in cancer care
Editor’s note: This is the last in a series of five stories from ASCO Voices, a session during ASCO Annual Meeting focused on the human side of oncology.
Anthony V. D’Amico, MD, PhD, happened to mention to one of the patients in his Wednesday clinic that he believes everything happens for a reason.
Perhaps this, too, happened for a reason.
“Jack” was the rare patient with whom D’Amico had not yet managed to forge a personal connection. Two years prior, Jack had received the dual diagnoses of cardiac amyloidosis and multiple myeloma, neither of which is curable. D’Amico met with Jack and his wife to discuss Jack’s intermediate-risk prostate cancer, which had more than a 90% cure rate.
“Jack wasn’t fazed — he never asked a question. He signed the consent form,” recalled D’Amico, a professor of radiation oncology at Harvard Medical School and chief of genitourinary radiation oncology at Brigham and Women’s Hospital. “The consult was essentially over and I had not made a connection with Jack or his wife, which is something I have rarely seen in my practice.”
Toward the end of the discussion, D’Amico mentioned his belief that things happen for a reason, adding that he has seen miracles happen as a result of this mindset.
“For the first time in the consult, Jack perked up,” D’Amico said. “He looked at me and gently raised his hand and pointed at me. He said, ‘You know, you’re absolutely right. Let me tell you a story.’”
‘She just looked so well’
The previous week, Jack had been in the waiting room of the hospital’s infusion area prior to treatment, which he was receiving on a Tuesday rather than his usual Wednesday appointment. Jack and his wife sat across from a family he had never encountered before — a young woman and her parents.
Jack leaned over and introduced himself to the young woman, who told him her name was Jill.
“Jack told her that he saw the wristlet, but that he couldn’t believe Jill was a patient, because she just looked so well,” D’Amico said.
The young woman confirmed that she was a patient, then looked down in silence. After more time passed, Jack spoke to Jill one more time. He again told Jill that she looked too healthy to be a patient. Jill smiled, which made Jack glad he had spoken up.
After a few minutes, though, he noticed tears running down her face.
“Jill then jumped up, grabbed each of her parents by the hand, and ran them back into the infusion area with the words, ‘Let’s go,’” D’Amico said. “Jack felt terrible for making her cry.”
Half an hour later, as Jack was receiving his treatment, an unfamiliar nurse approached him. She asked if his name was Jack and whether he was the person who had spoken to Jill in the waiting room.
“Jack told her yes, and asked the nurse to tell Jill how sorry he was for making her cry,” D’Amico said, “but the nurse said, ‘You don’t understand. I want you to listen.’”
‘He had probably saved her life’
The nurse explained that Jill had given her permission to tell Jack what had really happened.
It was Jill’s 18th birthday. For the past several months, Jill had been receiving her treatment against her will. Having reached legal adulthood, Jill had decided on that day to refuse treatment — until Jack came along.
“The nurse told Jack that Jill was a senior in high school and had been meeting with a social worker regularly,” D’Amico said. “She told the social worker that even though she hadn’t told anyone at school about her diagnosis, she felt that everyone knew and thought of her only as a ‘cancer patient.’ She said it made her feel so ugly, and she just wanted to die.”
Then she had met Jack, a perfect stranger with no particular reason to tell her anything but the truth, and he had been incredulous over her patient status because she looked so good.
“She couldn’t get her treatment any faster because of what Jack had said,” D’Amico said. “He had changed her perspective. When she cried, they were tears of healing and catharsis. She ran her parents into the infusion area and for the first time, she wasn’t crying while getting her treatment. She was smiling, because of Jack. He had probably saved her life.”
D’Amico related the story to remind clinicians that the seemingly inconsequential interactions they have with patients — and with people in general — can end up meaning much more than they realize.
In this case, Jack’s decision to tell Jill how healthy she looked had convinced her to continue treatment, and D’Amico’s decision to tell Jack his thoughts about miracles had persuaded Jack to tell D’Amico this story — and to connect with D’Amico on a personal level.
“Jack had the type of personality that says it like it is, like a child does,” D’Amico said. “If the nurse hadn’t been given permission to come back and tell him, he would have thought he hurt Jill’s feelings. In fact, he had done just the opposite.
“What’s the moral of this story? Always tell the truth, like a child, in innocence. Say it like it is, and just watch. A miracle will happen.”
For more information:
Anthony V. D’Amico, MD, PhD, can be reached at Brigham and Women’s Hospital, 75 Francis St., Boston, MA 02115; email: adamico@bwh.harvard.edu.
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“Everything Happens for a Reason.” ASCO Voices Session. Presented at: ASCO Annual Meeting; June 2-6, 2023; Chicago.
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