How do you thank a group of people who’ve seen you at your absolute worst, needles, nausea, and ninja-level IV acrobatics, and still showed up every day with warmth, patience, and the good meds?
Over the last 30 days, I’ve had the honor (and, let’s be honest, the medically necessary obligation) of being in your care. And in that time, you all became more than just healthcare providers; you became part of my healing, hope, and sometimes my unofficial stand-up audience.
To Abigale, whose streak of dedication at the start set the tone for everything that followed, you are the GOAT of Day 1s.
To Lyndsay, Katie, Krysta, Jess, and Becc, you somehow managed to juggle 12-hour shifts, hallway chaos, and beeping IV pumps while still treating me like I was your only patient. You brought professionalism, humor, and a uniquely comforting blend of tough love and genuine skill that I won’t forget. You reminded me that even in a system under pressure, human kindness still leads.
To Darren, Emily, Nina, Kate, Megan, and others whose names I caught mid-nap or in the haze of post-chemo fog, you were the ones who carried the humor, honesty, and professionalism that kept me grounded. You didn’t just take care of the labs and linesyou cared for me. And I felt it.
To the quiet heroes, the small army of aides: Amelia, who was probably in my room more often than I was awake, and Makaila, always a steady presence during the night shift, you kept things running smoothly, even when I was at my most disoriented. All of you showed up without fanfare, but I noticed. I always noticed.
And to everyone else whose names I missed because cancer fog is real, please know I carry your impact with me. Every kind word, every joke, every “you’re doing great” when I wasn’t sure I was… it all added up.
There is something sacred about being cared for when you’re at your most vulnerable. These nurses and aides didn’t just administer meds or check boxes; they held space. They let me cry. They laughed at my dark humor. They asked about my kids. They noticed when I was too quiet and stayed a moment longer when I needed it most.
You don’t always get to choose how your story changes, but sometimes you get lucky with the people who help you turn the page.
From the bottom of my tired, healing, deeply grateful heart, thank you.
Here’s to those who continue the fight, granting cancer no quarter, only compassion and strength to those in your care.
~Tyler
