At Dartmouth Cancer Center (DCC), oncology social workers walk alongside patients and families through some of life’s most uncertain moments.
Through their own stories, we can bring to light the powerful, yet often unrecognized, contributions of these important professionals.
Jennifer Furney, MSW
Continuing Care Manager – Social Work, Genitourinary (GU) and Neuro-oncology
I met an elderly patient who had served in the military and likely experienced chemical exposure. As we talked, I learned he wasn’t connected to the U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs (VA). He is hard of hearing and prefers email, but the VA requires intake by phone.
To work around this barrier, I reached out to a social worker in White River Junction, Vermont, who sent me the application. I assisted my patient in completing and submitting his application and supporting documents. Together, we were able to get him connected. The VA is covering the cost of his cancer treatment and improving his quality of life. He has also learned of other benefits he now qualifies for, such as hearing aids.
He served our country. It feels only right that I serve him.
Another patient had a tumor affecting his vision. Because his profession required working with sharp objects, he had to cut back to 12 hours a week, losing most of his income. Around the same time, his rent doubled under new ownership. He lost the ability to drive. Subzero winter temperatures drove his heating bills sky-high. The strain was overwhelming.
He qualified for Social Security disability under a compassionate allowance, but like many patients, he faced a five-month waiting period before his first check arrived.
Our Social Work team collaborated with DCC’s community resource representative and resource specialist to find help. With support from partners including Annie’s Angels, Catholic Charities New Hampshire, the Joe Andruzzi Foundation, the Chad Milliken Memorial Fund, state fuel assistance, and DCC emergency funds, we made sure he remained sheltered and helped him secure heating assistance. The American Cancer Society provided gas cards so he could attend appointments with a driver. Healing Harvest helped with food assistance, and the LaBelle Fund provided grocery cards for household essentials not covered by Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP).
Together, we made sure he could focus on healing instead of survival.
Robert Tichner, MSW, LICSW
Outpatient Care Manager – Social Work, Hematology
I was the on-duty social worker when I was called to the intensive care unit (ICU) to support a family facing an unexpected end-of-life crisis. I spent several hours with them, including their young son, as they processed what was happening.
A few days later, I saw the patient’s obituary. It was brief, listing family and milestones. It also specifically thanked me for the support I provided. No one else outside the family was mentioned.
I had only spent a few hours with them. I had no other interaction beyond that day in the ICU. Their gesture surprised and touched me deeply.
Moments like that remind me how impactful our presence can be. We carry many responsibilities, but in the most personal and painful situations, the human touch matters. Our work makes a difference, sometimes in ways we don’t fully see until later.
Laura Hubbell, MSW
Continuing Care Manager – Social Work, Thoracic Oncology, Skin Cancers, Melanoma and Sarcoma
Our profession is rooted in justice, equity, and the belief that every person deserves a fair chance. Social workers are often the bridge between systems and the people they are meant to serve—advocating, challenging barriers, and pushing for change.
I met a patient after an inpatient stay for a new cancer diagnosis. Very quickly, I learned the challenges went far beyond his illness. The family lacked consistent meals, transportation, a phone, functioning plumbing and safe heat. My patient had witnessed his sibling’s death in the home just weeks earlier. His parents required extensive care due to physical and cognitive limitations.
Walking into that room, I could feel the weight he was carrying—fear, grief, and shock. My first role was presence. To listen. To honor his emotions and help him feel less alone.
Our work involved coordination across Dartmouth Health providers and staff, the town fire department, home health and hospice teams, patient financial services, Medicaid, the American Cancer Society, lodging, transportation, and meal resources.
Encounters like this remind me of why I chose social work. We are invited into some of the most vulnerable chapters of people’s lives, and walk beside them—not to fix everything, but to make the path a little less heavy.
His courage stays with me.
Stephanie “Annie” Aquila, MSW, LICSW
Continuing Care Manager, Office of Care Management
When I think about why DCC is such an extraordinary place to work, I don’t think of one story. I think of hundreds. It’s a mosaic of moments.
I’ve seen patients enduring immense physical and emotional suffering who still find ways to help others. In the midst of their own grief, they donate time, energy, creativity, and money to bring comfort to someone else. It is humbling.
I’ve also seen the generosity of our community. The Grafton County Pemi Baker Centennial Lions Club and the Walmart Supercenter Vision Center once teamed up to provide eyeglasses to a patient who couldn’t afford them on top of gas money for daily radiation treatments. Dartmouth College students have written heartfelt messages of support and goodwill to our patients, simply to have them feel seen and loved. Recently, a local hairdresser offered to donate new wigs right after I’d spoken with a patient who wondered how she could afford one.
These kindnesses are real, and they are plentiful. There are frustrations, too, especially when resources are stretched thin. It’s hard for anyone not to be able to provide what’s needed.
But every day, I get to talk with people—former patients, volunteers, donors, nonprofits, state agencies, fellow staff—who all bring something to nourish our patients during their hardest days.
I feel unbelievably fortunate to work among people like this. There is nowhere else I’d rather be.
This month and all year-round, we honor social work professionals—not just for the resources they secure or the systems they navigate—but for their presence, advocacy, and humanity. Oncology social workers stand beside patients in crisis, in grief and in hope, striving every day to make sure no one walks the cancer journey alone.