Oncology. If I had to describe cancer in one word, it would be ugly. It’s always been… ugly. It’s an ugly subject to study; it’s an ugly disease to endure; it’s an ugly condition to manage, and above that all, it’s an ugly truth to live around. 

When you choose a path in healthcare and medicine, you’re bound to encounter it, no matter how much you wish you wouldn’t. There is something excruciating about the terminal truth that cancer itself equals death—and the additions that follow: aggressive, worst prognosis, undifferentiated. Words that linger in someone’s mind long after they’ve been said. Almost like a refractory pain, always there, meant to disturb. 

As a doctor, I’ve had my small share of encounters with patients who were diagnosed or screened for cancer. I still remember my first cancer patient as an intern during my internal medicine rotation. My seniors broke the news to him so directly that I could see the confusion and fear on his face. I also remember the chair he offered me when all he wanted was to sit, talk, and decompress. 

That encounter stayed with me because it reminded me that so much of treating a patient is psychological. Sometimes, they simply need someone to listen. Someone to make them feel heard. It was one of those moments that taught me one of medicine’s most important pillars: be kind, compassionate, and empathetic, no matter what. At the end of the day,  patients may forget the details of their management, but they will remember how you treated them and how you made them feel throughout it. 

And now, as the resident I am today. I walk through the halls of the gynecologic oncology department and see what cancer had to offer these women. Those brave women. Mothers, grandmothers, daughters, wives, sisters— even former physicians. Women from completely different walks of life, all carrying the burden of fighting cancer in their own way.

And I get it. Being referred to an oncologist can feel like someone is paving the road toward your grave. Yet, surprisingly,  oncology has been one of the least expected places for me to find so much optimism. 

In just my first few weeks, I met women who showed me resilience, determination, acceptance, and even humor in ways I hadn’t expected. At first, even joking about cancer felt like taboo to me. But then I realized that for some of them, humor was simply another way of living through it. 

Cancer is still ugly. 

I don’t think anything will ever change that. But only a few weeks into oncology, I’m starting to realize that maybe this rotation isn’t going to teach me only about cancer. 

Maybe there’s more to oncology than cancer after all.