Lily Gloria Tagoe, Paediatric Oncologist at Korle-bu Teaching Hospital, shared an article on LinkedIn:
“Balancing the bitter: Reflections of a Paediatric Oncologist
For those of you who watch ‘The Career Ladder’ on any of the socials, you may be familiar with this question – ‘if your job was a food, what would it be?’
One day, I began to reflect on this question with reference to my job. For those who may not know, I am a Paediatric Oncologist.
My initial thought was perhaps my job is more akin to a spice – salt, because I believe through my work, I make the lives of the children and their families better, or at least I strive to.
Then I wondered, was that too simplistic?
For a Paediatric Oncologist in a low and middle-income country, my job often transcends my core mandate of diagnosing and managing childhood cancers.
On a daily, I busy myself with other facets of my patients lives – can they afford this antibiotic I’m prescribing for this infection the child has come down with?
Do the patients have enough money to transport themselves to the hospital for their next visit?
Do I have to request all these labs in one go or stagger them with some form of priority, so we are more likely to be able to afford them?
Do I have money in my purse to give to the mother who approaches me telling me about how she has no money to buy food for herself?
Which other blood bank can I contact to obtain platelets for my patient who virtually has none and is on the verge of bleeding when my hospital has none in stock?
Reflecting on these, I thought – maybe lasagna is a better food option to describe the complex layers working in this part of the world comes with.
I still didn’t feel that I’d captured the essence of my job enough and since I find myself in the year 2026, I sought the help of my AI assistant – cue Google’s Gemini.
I asked it what it thought and boy did it set me thinking.
Out of the various options it proffered, I finally found one that I felt resonated with me – dark chocolate.
This bitter-sweet delectable, in my opinion, accurately sums up what it means to be a Paediatric Oncologist.
Yes, there is an aspect of ‘bitterness’ you cannot ignore – the long hours (which becoming a consultant hasn’t changed); the difficult conversations with parents, especially with those who unfortunately have no curative options left; the weight of the childhood cancer diagnosis in general.
And yet, there’s a lot of ‘sweetness’ – the joy we all feel when a child who comes in at the brink of death makes it out in one piece; the elation when we get that bone marrow report saying remission; the excitement of seeing our survivors come back to see us in clinic 5, 10 years after diagnosis, not only surviving but thriving; and the depths of bonds we form with our patients and families.
Being a Paediatric Oncologist is a complex flavour that reminds you that the most difficult experiences often have the most depth, and there’s nothing else I’d rather be.”
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