11:54 AM PDT on Thursday, June 15, 2006

JEAN ENERSEN / KING 5 News

Rev. Debra Jarvis doesn't wear a collar or a cross, she prefers to simply wear a smile. 

“You know, I'm the chaplain so everyone thinks the agenda is we have to talk about your spirituality,” she said. “And we would work that in but I provide for everyone a listening ear. “Because sometimes you say "chaplain" and people are like "Eh, I don't want to talk to you.’ They're thinking I'm going to convert them or I'm just going to talk about religion so sometimes I'm sort of unintentional about not exactly saying that word clearly.”

There are only three places in the country that have outpatient oncology chaplains. Fortunately  for all the patients at the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance, Debra Jarvis is one of them. 

“I usually see people on the 5th floor, which is the infusion floor, so they're all hooked up getting their chemo,” she said.  

Not everybody wants to talk about their cancer but Debra is open to hearing whatever they need to talk about.

Sept. 11, 2001 was the day that actually changed Debra’s life in many profound ways. Indirectly the events of that day led her to what she feels is her true calling. 

KING

Debra Jarvis is an ordained minister and a chaplain who has counseled cancer patients for more than a decade.

“My husband and I were in Manhattan on September 11th,” she said. “So we turned on the television and I looked out the window and I could see the smoke and I'm looking on the TV, I'm seeing it on the TV  and then seeing outside and going, ‘Wait, this can't be right.’ So after about an hour of sitting there watching, I said to my husband: ‘This is crazy, let's go do something, let's help.’”

The couple got involved rights away, working at the blood bank there because Debra had been a phlebotomist and her husband is a physician. When her work was complete at the blood bank, Debra felt she still had more to offer. So she volunteered as a Red Cross chaplain. That experience changed everything.

“That was an incredible life-changing experience,” she said. “It was like ‘this is why I came to the planet, this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing.’"

Back in Seattle she eventually landed at the Seattle Cancer Care Alliance, counseling cancer patients.

Then, in a twist of irony last April, Debra’s life was turned upside down.

“My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer and then four days later, I was diagnosed,” she said. “I kind of felt like God said to me: "Yeah, I can use you in this.’ So that when I was diagnosed, I could just think back to some of the really good models I saw and know that ‘okay, this is how I’m going to do it.’” 

Debra continued to work at SCCA through her treatments which meant she didn't have to go far for her treatments.

“I work with this incredible bunch of nurses and it was very difficult for them in the beginning to treat me,” she said. “I think the way we sort of worked around it was just acknowledging, ‘okay this is weird and it's going to have to be weird so we'll just let it be weird.’

“So Thursday afternoons at 4 o'clock I would take off my name badge and I would get a little wrist band and I’d crawl into the bed and then one of my colleagues would treat me. I had a mastectomy and I did six months of what they call CMF. I finished in December. I just got my port out a couple hours ago and hopefully I’m done.”

Debra is also a published author, known for her humor in discussing cancer, death, and faith. This sometimes irreverent reverend has decided to put all her experiences in a new book she's calling "It's Not About the Hair." 

 “That was one of the first things people asked me about when I told them I had breast cancer,” Jarvis said.

Debra is also a regular contributor to National Public Radio, and she often uses her experiences as a chaplain and cancer survivor in her commentaries.

Actually, Debra didn't lose her hair, and she certainly only gained more compassion for those she counsels.

She's also always there to share the tears with others when living with cancer becomes a bit overwhelming.

“Sometimes I think it's the acts of kindness that bring me to tears more than anything,” she said.

Jarvis has dedicated her life to sharing with others that taking the cancer journey doesn't have to take the joy out of living.

“I wanted to somehow do it and gain a measure of wisdom and do it with a certain amount of grace and not lose my inner joy and my sense of humor and make it better for everyone around me,” she said.

And so my approach was sort of like, "Okay so here I am with this. How can I use this for service? How can I make meaning out of this? I wanted to be really out about it. Because I didn't want to participate in that whole shame and stigma around cancer, because I really hate that and it's still there.

“I would say that it affirmed what I already believed, which is: you can chose how to respond to things in your life. All that love gives you faith in yourself, and in some way that's been good practice for me. But I’m reminding myself all the time remember what it was like when you were on chemo. Don't wait for another difficult situation to keep you in the present. I’m one of those people who likes to fully engage in life to the fullest extent.”