“I often tell my patients that a cancer journey is like a book, and we’re going to read every page of it together, side by side. And I’ve learned here that eight focused minutes of truly listening is all it takes to make someone feel seen … a hand on their arm, eyes that don’t look away. We hope it allows those who visit our chemo clinic the space to just be, the mother, the brother, the friend. Let us carry the rest.”

“After the hardest words are spoken, I stay. I sit with them, I answer every question and give everyone in the room the time and space to be with their loved one. In the moments that matter most, care means seeing not only the patient in the bed, but everyone standing beside them — and making sure no one faces it alone.”

“You don’t forget the people you’ve met at the highest and lowest moments of their lives — I recognized the mother of these very twins the instant I walked in, years after her first pregnancy here at North York General. They become part of your own story, too, the same way you become part of theirs — quietly, for years, long after the room has emptied.”