Beginning college, I had no idea what psychologists did or why anyone would want to become one.  When one of my classes was unexpectedly canceled and an Introductory Psychology class was my only option – that changed fast. The course was exciting not just because of the topics, but because of how it was taught. Classes were set up as intense debates among a team of professors with very different views on controversial questions.  Are gender differences caused by nature or nurture?  Should depression be treated by medications or psychotherapy? Does human nature make violence inevitable? How do we know what IQ tests really measure? The faculty dug into those questions and each other’s argument with a vigor that had me on the edge of my seat. I did not know it at first, but I was hooked; 6 years later I started a Ph.D. program in clinical psychology.

Starting out as a young psychologist after graduate school, I divided my time between research with children at a psychiatric hospital and caring for patients of all ages at a general medical hospital. Working in the medical hospital, I received referrals for patients with a variety of conditions including seizure disorders, emphysema, and cancer. This was new to me. I was intrigued to think about how familiar symptoms like anxiety and depression were different in the context of medical illness and how I might need to approach them differently. This interest grew steadily over time and prompted me to take a position in the pediatric oncology program at the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute in Boston in 1997. In my first few years at Dana-Farber, I worked exclusively with children and families during cancer treatment, but soon joined a specialty clinic for pediatric cancer survivors where I still work today.

Starting in the survivorship clinic, I was surprised to learn the published psychology literature on young cancer survivors was very limited. Fortunately, my new role gave me the time and opportunity to learn from senior psychologists, my medical colleagues, and directly from our survivors’ own experiences. It also afforded me the opportunity to start my own research to learn more. Initially, my research focused on identifying the most common psychosocial challenges for survivors and the best methods for identifying those individuals with significant needs. Currently, my research focuses on developing behavioral interventions to help cancer survivors manage late-effects including fatigue, anxiety, and insomnia. As a clinician, I am interested in using what I have learned from my own practice to adapt existing interventions to meet the needs of young cancer survivors. I am particularly interested in learning how brief educational interventions can help survivors manage their symptoms.

My colleagues and I are currently testing single-session educational interventions for insomnia, anxiety, and sexual health concerns in young adult cancer survivors. We hope that by making programs brief, and delivering them online in live video conference sessions, they will be effective and easy for survivors to use whenever and wherever they may need them. So far, pilot studies of these interventions have been promising, but many questions remain to be answered. Will the short-term symptom reductions reported by young adult participants last over time? Are brief programs a better fit for some young survivors, but not others? Can we boost the effects of brief programs for survivors who may need more? Today, these questions occupy much of my time. And although the day-to-day work of answering them can be demanding and slow, I feel very lucky to be doing this work—thrilled at the prospect of developing new interventions for young adult cancer survivors and still hooked on studying psychology.

By: Christopher Recklitis