Jordy Ponce

You know, as a psychologist, I'd always been warm, compassionate, connecting.

I got good results with my clients.

But honestly, I think I was a little low on the empathy scale because I hadn't experienced anything quite like this before.

And I was a little annoyed with myself

at times when we would ask clients or patients to activate and do things, I didn't realize what a big ask that was until now.

More time went by, and eventually, the doctors and the scans said, you know, your tumors aren't going anywhere, Jordi, but they are shrinking, and I did start to have some better days.

And one day, I was pulling groceries out of the back of the car, and boom, I was hit with this epiphany.

Jordy, you're still alive.

And I know that sounds kind of obvious, but to me, it wasn't.

I had felt like I was not part of the living, so focused on treatment and chemo and cancer.

And I thought, I'm just as alive as anybody else is today, at least.

How can I make this day worth living?

And I've been a longtime admirer of Viktor Frankl, who is a psychologist who founded Logotherapy, and he was a survivor of concentration camps.

And there, in that harsh environment, he noticed that people who tended to do the best physically and mentally were people who had a sense of meaning and purpose in their everyday lives, especially when that was focused on helping others.

And I had missed that for my days in psychology, and so I thought, maybe I should think about this job.

But every time I had contacted Moffitt Cancer Center, I'd been terrified because I thought, how can I do this job when I can hardly get through it myself?

So I sat down with my former supervisor, Lisa, who is one of the most direct and intelligent people that I know.

And I gave her a whole dissertation about why I shouldn't take the job.

There would be countertransference.

I'd freak the patients out.