By Kirthana Sane
Walking into the pediatric oncology unit for my first shift as a Footprints volunteer, I felt a nervous energy buzzing through me. It was like stepping into an entirely new world — one filled with challenges I wasn’t sure I was equipped to face. But knowing I wasn’t alone brought comfort. My shift buddy had experience volunteering and was there to guide me. Little did I know, he wouldn’t just help me navigate the role, but would also offer a friendship that was fueled by shared experiences and a commitment to brightening the patients' days.
As we began rounds, my shift buddy explained how to approach the patients. He took the lead with the first patient so I could observe. Watching him interact, I admired how natural and kind he was, hoping to reflect some of that ease when it was my turn. The first few patients we approached didn’t need anything, and with each "no," my nervousness grew. Finally, we reached the last room. The patient, an older teen, sat quietly with headphones in. My shift buddy mentioned that from his experience, he noticed that older kids often declined, but that it is still good to always ask. To our surprise, the boy agreed to play Xbox with us.
We played 2K, and I opted to sit out since my gaming skills are nearly nonexistent. My shift buddy and the patient dove into the game, bantering back and forth with easy camaraderie. Near the end of the session, my shift buddy suggested the winner of that game face me for a final round. I was quick to fight the idea, insisting I’d be awful, but they convinced me to try. True to my word, I was terrible - fumbling with the controls and forgetting what buttons did what. Yet somehow, I started winning. It wasn’t skill; it was kindness. The patient was letting me win.
That generous gesture transported me back to my childhood, playing with my older brother, who would let me win just to see me smile. In that moment, I wasn’t just a volunteer; I was a human being connecting with another, beyond illness or roles. The unit became a place of joy for me — a space where the simplest pleasures, like laughter over a video game, held immense weight.
Each week brought new faces, new challenges, and new moments of connection. Some days were quieter than others, but every interaction taught me something about empathy, resilience, and the power of being present. In the end, it wasn’t just the patients whose lives we hoped to touch — it was our own, too. And week after week, shift after shift, I found myself leaving the unit with a full heart, reminded of how much joy can be found in the simplest acts of care.
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