[2023-05-12] Nurse Jacinthe and National Nursing Week
Today's quarterly follow-up with the gynecologic oncology team at The Ottawa Hospital fell on International Nurses Day and during National Nursing Week, so it's fitting that I would focus today's post on an amazing oncology nurse: Jacinthe Forget.
But before I talk about Jacinthe, allow me to share a little history about International Nurses Day and National Nursing Week.
According to the Canadian Nurses Association (CNA),
In 1971, ICN [the International Council of Nurses] designated May 12, the birthday of nursing pioneer Florence Nightingale, as International Nurses Day. In 1985, CNA members passed a resolution to begin negotiations with the federal government to have the week containing May 12 proclaimed as National Nurses Week annually. Soon after, the federal minister of health proclaimed the second week of May as National Nurses Week. In 1993, the name was changed to National Nursing Week to emphasize the profession's accomplishments as a discipline.
Now, to Jacinthe. I first met Jacinthe Forget at The Ottawa Hospital (General Campus) on or about August 31, 2020, while recovering from surgery to deal with ovarian cancer. She gave me information on the two drugs that would be administered during chemotherapy (CARBOplatin and PACLitaxel). Much like many of the professionals I have met during my treatment for ovarian cancer, Jacinthe was efficient but also warm. She gave me confidence that I could handle chemo.
When I met her again for my first chemotherapy treatment on October 1, 2020, I welcomed her familiar face. She radiated positivity, and I felt like I was in good hands. Her soothing presence was a constant each time I visited the Cancer Centre. On one treatment, my primary nurse (a lovely woman named Kathy) who was setting up the IV to administer the chemo drugs tried twice to find a vein, but missed both times. She turned to Jacinthe, who quietly, confidently and sweetly came to my bedside and inserted the IV on the first try. It was a pleasure to see the way that Jacinthe and Kathy and the other nurses on the cancer ward supported each other as well as their patients.
On the day before my fourth chemo on December 3, 2020, Jacinthe called me to say that my neutrophils were too low (0.7) to proceed with my scheduled treatment. She gave me the option of postponing my chemo right away and waiting a week, or having another blood test first thing the following morning to see whether my neutrophil level had risen to the minimum threshold (1.0). I asked her whether someone's neutrophils could rise that quickly in such a short time. She said that she had seen it. So I opted to give it a shot. The following morning, after an early-morning blood test, I received the good news that my neutrophils had not only hit the threshold but exceeded them (1.2) and that chemo could proceed as scheduled.
Jacinthe participates in follow-up appointments for ovarian cancer survivors. She was at the Cancer Centre on January 8, 2021, when I met with one of the oncologists to discuss my starting a maintenance drug to try to keep my ovarian cancer from recurring. That particular meeting was the hardest one I had during my cancer treatment. Health professionals who specialize in ovarian cancer are—it would seem—somber by nature. That's understandable when you look at the sobering statistics for ovarian cancer survival (numbers I avoid sharing in this blog). This conversation was the only one during my entire cancer journey that brought me to tears. After the doctor had left and I was alone with Jacinthe, she advised me not to lose hope, as there are lots of options for treating ovarian cancer. When I asked her, "what do I do now?" she replied, "live your life." And so I did.
I finished chemotherapy a week later, on January 14, 2021. On that day, I wrote this about Kathy and Jacinthe:
And just like that, chemotherapy is done. In saying goodbye to Nurse Kathy and Nurse Jacinthe, I said that I hoped I would never see them again. Jacinthe said, "Well, at least not here." Out in the world, post-chemo and post-COVID, I'd love to see these lovely women, and I'd love to be able to give them a proper hug.
After completing my chemotherapy, I haven't had many opportunities to see Jacinthe in person. Most of the routine follow-ups were being done by phone. I believe that today was the first day I saw Jacinthe in person since our last face-to-face meeting in January 2021. She was as lovely and calm as I remember her. In fact, I remarked, "How is it that you look younger today than you did three years ago when we met?"
I asked her about the result on my last CA125 test, which was a 9 after a string of 7s and 8s over the past two years. She laughed. There was clearly nothing to worry about. She was delighted that I appear to be doing so well: I look and feel good, my CA125 is low and stable, and my MRI in January to follow up on my perianal skin cancer corroborated no recurrence of cancer. Before she left the room, I got my chance to give her a proper hug. What a joy it was to see her under positive circumstances.
After Jacinthe left, Dr. Faught came into the room. I always love it when he's the oncologist who appears in my examination room. Like Jacinthe, he is not at all concerned by the result of 9 on my latest CA125. He said that even if my CA125 hit double digits, he wouldn't be worried, as long as I remain below 30 or 35. He noted that a CA125 level can be affected by all sorts of things, such as the flu or gastrointestinal issues.
He also commented on the fact that I'm well past the two year mark, an important milestone in ovarian cancer treatment. Though he and his colleagues will continue to follow me for five years (maybe more), the frequency of my appointments will begin to stretch out. My next check-in will be in four months, rather than three.
I took the opportunity to share with Dr. Faught the post I had written after our last meeting, on February 10, 2023. He laughed when I showed him the visual I had created for that post: a cartoon version of him, which he described as looking much younger than he does. I told him that, as I had written in the post, he exuded a perfect mix of tenderness and realism. "You just made my day," he said. On departing, I asked for and was granted another Dr. Faught hug.
Going through cancer can feel like a long road, but many of the people we meet on that journey are absolutely wonderful. To Jacinthe and all the nurses I have met in these past three years, happy National Nursing Week.
