The power of presence, kindness and following your calling

Lilli Seyfried

My journey into cancer nursing began in 2016 as a student nurse when I was randomly allocated to a six-week placement on the inpatient oncology unit. I still remember standing awkwardly in the corner of the nurses’ station during morning huddle, staring down at the handover sheet and trying to decipher a stream of unfamiliar acronyms: ALL, DLBCL, AML. I remember thinking, What have I gotten myself into?

Yet within those six weeks, I witnessed a side of nursing that resonated deeply with me. It was raw, meaningful, highly specialised, and profoundly complex. More importantly, it was deeply human. The experience left a lasting impression and ultimately shaped the direction of my career.

One patient in particular remains vivid in my memory. She was a young mother who had been sent to the emergency department after a routine blood test revealed critically abnormal results. Things moved quickly—an urgent bone marrow biopsy in ED, followed by her transfer straight to the oncology ward. I remember the group of doctors gathered around her bedside, explaining what they suspected: “We think you have leukaemia.”

In that moment, I learned one of the most powerful lessons of nursing—the power of presence. There were no words that could soften the weight of that news. The room filled with waves of shock, fear and grief. And there I was, a student nurse at the very beginning of my career, sitting beside a woman whose life had just changed forever.

What I learned that day was that sometimes the most meaningful thing a nurse can offer is simply to be there—to sit in the silence, to hold space, and to walk alongside someone in one of the most vulnerable moments of their life.

Throughout my career, I have been particularly drawn to haematology. It is a field defined by rapid advancements in treatments, clinical trials, and emerging therapies, but most importantly by the patients and families affected by blood cancers who continue to inspire my work.

In Tasmania, we are fortunate to have organisations that provide vital support to this community. One of these being DCLFtas, whom has played an important role in my own development. Most recently, I was honoured to receive a scholarship that supported my attendance at HSANZ ‘Blood’ conference. They have also consistently supported our HSANZ nursing education dinners, helping foster learning and collaboration among haematology nurses. Of which, I stand as co-chair of the Tasmanian HSANZ nursing group, where I hope to continue supporting education and connection within our nursing community.

As much as I love my career, there’s definitely life beyond Royal Hobart Hospital! I recently asked a few of my nearest and dearest (slightly nervously!) to describe me in one word. Their answers? Kind, encouraging, vibrant, sunshine… thankfully all very generous – I’ll take that as a win.

Most weekends you’ll find me by the beach, latte in hand, walking Otis — my delightfully chaotic miniature labradoodle and personal ray of sunshine. It’s my favourite way to reset: salty air, beautiful views, and a quiet moment to switch off and reflect on the week that’s been.

When asked ‘if someone really knew me, what would they say is ‘in my blood’, I think they’d say empathy, kindness and fun run through my veins. I’m someone who naturally wants to help, listen, and be there for people — in the tough moments and the joyful ones. Aside from my zen moments on the beach, you’ll usually find me exploring wineries, adventuring along Tassie’s east coast, or obsessing over fashion and interior design. I’ve always had an eye for good style and beautiful spaces… and a weakness for a really good glass of wine.

Reflecting on my journey so far, I feel incredibly lucky to work in a field that is both challenging and deeply rewarding. Supporting patients and families affected by blood cancer continues to inspire me every day. A big thank you to DCLFtas for supporting me along the way, and our community affected by blood cancer. 

 

Lilli, dressed in a long puffer jacket, standing on a timber bridge with a creek below and the Tasmanian highlands in the background.