Takeaway
When a child’s world shifts from stuffed animals to scans, help them name their fears. Parents and caregivers are likely also scared and need to feel heard and understood.
Creative arts in medicine | February 23, 2026 | 1 min read
By John DeCarlo, MA, MDiv, Hofstra University
Tigers in the night
His favorite stuffed animals
Have morphed into
Tests, drugs, and procedures
He has a recurring nightmare:
His life is being dragged
Into the back of a dark, dark cave
By a giant saber tooth tiger.
Tears glisten in his eyes
Pale crimson rose stains his cheeks
His pulse fluttering away.
From fear of their son’s life
They are suddenly faint and weak
Seemingly fleeting away.
As a professor of writing with an interest in immuno-oncology, I had the opportunity to attend a brain tumor conference this past summer at Cold Spring Harbor Lab. There, I spoke with both surgeons and scientists about how brain tumors affect children. Reflecting on the experience, I was prompted to write a poem about a child and family coping with a brain tumor.
The poem I wrote reminded me of the importance of seeing beyond diagnoses and protocols to the lived experience of illness. The child’s nightmares, the parents’ exhaustion, and the cascade of medical interventions all underscore the need for empathy and compassionate presence. By recognizing the emotional and relational dimensions of care—fear, uncertainty, hope—clinicians can build trust, reduce trauma, and honor the patient and family as whole people. The poem invites a humanistic practice: slowing down to listen, validating distress, and partnering with families in a way that emphasizes connection alongside scientific rigor.
This piece expresses the views solely of the author. It does not necessarily represent the views of any organization, including Johns Hopkins Medicine.