I\u2019ve wanted to be a psychologist ever since I was in high school. But I steered away from oncology at first because I thought it would be too emotionally difficult to work with cancer patients.<\/p>\n
Then, I was diagnosed with stage 4 Hodgkin lymphoma<\/a> when I was 21. That experience completely reshaped my life.<\/p>\n Cancer made me reconsider my specialty<\/p>\n After I became a cancer patient, I realized that oncology was definitely the area I wanted to focus on. It didn\u2019t seem as daunting once I\u2019d been through cancer treatment<\/a> personally.<\/p>\n After all, I knew exactly what it was like to lose your hair<\/a> and your appetite<\/a>. I could relate to looking in the mirror<\/a> and not recognizing your own reflection. I also understood how disconcerting it was to realize that total strangers could deduce something very private about you just by wearing a head scarf out in public.<\/p>\n All of that made oncology a natural fit for me. But it also helped me in another way.<\/p>\n I started working as a clinical psychologist at UT MD Anderson in 2013, when I was just 30. Most of my patients were older than me. Some were openly skeptical that I could help them. They\u2019d look at me during our first session and get an expression on their faces that clearly said, \u201cYou are so young. How could you possibly understand?\u201d<\/p>\n After I shared a bit of my history, though, they were more willing to trust me. Just knowing that I\u2019d once been a cancer patient, too, gave me credibility with them that I wouldn\u2019t otherwise have had.<\/p>\n Survivorship has helped me identify new opportunities<\/p>\n Over the years, my experience as a survivor<\/a> has taught me some other things, too.<\/p>\n One is that a cancer diagnosis<\/a> can feel isolating<\/a> at any age. When I was diagnosed back in 2004, I was the youngest person by decades in many Dallas-area waiting rooms. It was hard to relate to the other people there. Even though we were all technically cancer survivors, they were mostly in their 60s and 70s. So, we were at completely different stages of life. I was dealing with finishing college, dating<\/a> and preserving my fertility<\/a>, while they were concerned with retirement and estate planning<\/a>.<\/p>\n Today, I\u2019m noticing a gap in the support space for middle-aged patients. We\u2019ve got support programs for the 65-and-up crowd down pat. And UT MD Anderson has developed a fabulous Adolescent & Young Adult Program<\/a> for patients ages 15-39. But there\u2019s still kind of a void for the sandwich generation<\/a> \u2014 that is, people in their late 30s, 40s, and 50s.<\/p>\n These patients tend to face similar concerns \u2014 such as aging parents, childcare issues, career worries<\/a> and sexual health<\/a> challenges \u2014 so finding support for them is important, too. That\u2019s why I\u2019m in the process of developing a group right now for these patients. With more and more young peopl<\/a>e being diagnosed with cancer, it\u2019s going to become even more relevant as time goes on. So, I consider it the next frontier.<\/p>\n Catherine Powers, Ph.D., speaks with a patient at UT MD Anderson.<\/p>\n My experience has shown me a common psychological pain point<\/p>\n Another thing I\u2019ve noticed is that the transition period<\/a> after the end of treatment<\/a> can be one of the most difficult times for patients, psychologically.<\/p>\n Before that, you\u2019re still kind of in survival mode. So, you\u2019re just focused on doing the next medical thing. But after the dust settles, it can be very difficult to recalibrate. On the one hand, you\u2019re still waiting to see if your treatment worked<\/a>. On the other, you\u2019re trying to figure out what your life looks like now, and how to adjust to a \u201cnew normal.\u201d Finding that balance can be really challenging.<\/p>\n Maybe the reason I love working with this population so much is because I experienced a bit of that myself. I was thrust back into a college setting<\/a> to finish up my bachelor\u2019s degree after a year-long hiatus for lymphoma treatment<\/a>. Yet in my head, I was still a cancer patient. I was also struggling with neuropathy<\/a>, though it wasn\u2019t immediately obvious. So, I\u2019d get nasty looks from people occasionally when they\u2019d notice my handicapped sticker and question why I needed it.<\/p>\n Perspective shifts help both me and my patients<\/p>\n The \u201ccancer club\u201d is an organization that nobody wants to join. Learning I\u2019d been inducted into it was not something I wanted to hear as a 21-year-old. But overcoming cancer and getting through treatment have really made me appreciate my life. So, in some ways, I feel very lucky.<\/p>\n I\u2019ve been cancer-free<\/a> now for more than 20 years. But I realized early on that you never really know what\u2019s going to happen. Life is unpredictable. And, it can surprise you. So, the things that most people my age stress<\/a> over don\u2019t normally bother me. This was true back then, when I was just happy to have hair again<\/a> and be able to eat comfortably. And it\u2019s true today, too, now that I\u2019m enjoying watching my own children grow up.<\/p>\n I\u2019m really grateful for that change in perspective. It\u2019s helped me find joy in unexpected places. It\u2019s even more satisfying to see my patients find their own joy. That is one of the best parts of my job.<\/p>\n