Photos courtesy of Winnie Kittiko and Children's Healthcare of Atlanta	More NurseWeek Features   Smoke-Free Zone   Nurses and patients tackle nicotine addiction   Bloodless Survival     Surgical techniques to use when transfusion drops out of the equation
Eric (left) and Cameron Shaw, childhood cancer survivor at Camp Sunshine in 1998.

Calvin was unresponsive. His parents sat nearby, knowing their bedside company was now a vigil. He was only 15.

Winnie Kittiko remembers that night well. A hematology/oncology nurse in the cancer ward of Children's Healthcare of Atlanta, Kittiko had cared for the teenager throughout his hospitalization. Leukemia was ravaging his body and devastating the couple's spirits.

She made a point to comfort and speak to the parents daily, to be more than just the caretaker who arrived only when called. She earned their appreciation for the little things, such as timing her pager to buzz every 27 minutes to change the boy's IV medications-preventing the annoying pump alarm that would otherwise wake him every half-hour.

The 24-year veteran nurse talked with the parents again that final night, when Calvin was not yet gone, but not coming back. She walked over to the bed and handed the parents a photo of another boy. The photo captured a tall, thin, handsome kid, roughly the same age as the couple's son. He sported an effortlessly wide smile, highlighted by a hint of peach-fuzz facial hair.

"This was my son, Eric," Kittiko said.

The right words

What do you say to the parents of a dying child? "I'm sorry"? "How are you coping?"

Kittiko has found the right words because of her own experience. Four years ago, the Atlanta nurse lost the eldest of her three children after his nearly three-year battle with bone cancer.

Eric Kittiko was only 17, still enjoying parasailing trips in Florida and reading John Knowles when he died in April 1999. His mother spent most of the preceding 31 months tending to him, from the time they heard the shocking diagnosis until the final week when Eric told her, "Mom, I think I'm dying."

Those last days of Eric's life brought Kittiko her deepest grief, yet led her to a discovery she said was needed for her: the ability to remain appreciative of the time at hand and to look beyond the regrets of experiences that will never happen.

"How I looked at it with Eric's death … I got to plan for his birth, and I also got to plan for his death. And although I wouldn't have wanted to do it, a lot of families don't get that privilege," Kittiko said. "Their children are taken from them suddenly, without any forewarning. And while I can't say that one's better or worse, I decided I would make the best I could out of a bad situation."

After his death four years ago, Kittiko chose to use those lessons in making a courageous decision in her profession. A lifelong pediatrics nurse who experienced the happiness of new beginnings, she dedicated herself to pediatric oncology nursing and education, helping those who need help in their life's coda. And she did it at the risk of reliving her own pain.

Next Page