Don’t let the lab coats and scrubs fool you. Those trappings might be functional, but they camouflage one of the greatest secret weapons a medical professional can possess — the heart of a warrior.
Health Care Quarterly asked the folks on the frontlines of health care to think about their work like its a battle — because it often is. What is their biggest foe, and — most important — what are the tools in their arsenal to help stay ahead?
Russell Gollard
How did I become interested in battling cancer?
I can point to one moment. When I was about 11, I saw a classmate die a slow and painful death from childhood leukemia. From that point forward, I knew my future would involve dealing with cancer, either as a researcher or a clinician. My own background — initially as a teacher and writer — compelled me to look not so much at where things are now, but where they should be.
Similarly, the sheer toxicity of cancer medicine, and the occasionally catastrophic results of these therapies, pushed me to look further. All of us in oncology have seen the routine use of toxic medicines with little hope of achieving any meaningful benefit for patients.
I strive to be at the forefront of therapeutic advances, and most of all to be honest with patients. When I have those often-painful conversations that oncologists are known for avoiding, I focus on offering hope and moving forward together with new treatments and new therapies whenever possible.
Where we are now is important, but where we will be here in Southern Nevada in the near future will be more telling: using new therapies, new modalities, educating the next generation of practitioners, and doing so not based on an industrial model, but on an individualized basis.
As we integrate new treatments and technologies, we must never lose focus on our shared humanity and concern for people, families and communities dealing with the challenges and tragedies of cancer.