Dear Little Sister

Dear Diane,
I am so sorry for the brain freeze I experienced on Friday. It hadn't been that many hours since Susan had called and spilled the beans. Older sisters have a way of ruffling their feathers when a fox is circling the hen house. You are one of us chickens afterall. Our baby bird with a cancerous breast. I know that claiming "brain freeze" is our family motto whenever we need time to wrap our minds around something monumental. All of our cerebral machinations seems to grind to a halt and we mentally stutter for a bit. My intellectual stuttering began when I learned of your breast cancer. "This can't be true", ran through my head, over and over again, as though someone had looped it on an audio clip. This was not the way things were supposed to go for 2011. I had such high hopes for a crisis- free new year. Just one, was all I had counted on. We are due, as a family, don't you think? Well, it's been a few days now and my brain has thawed out. Thoughts are flowing freely again. I have incorporated your diagnosis into my reality and it is making it's way just now, throughout my system. It has definitely hit my heart. I think back to when Susan used to collect little tiny birds off the lawn and try to nurse them back to health with an eyedropper full of worm sludge.She patiently dropped tiny bits into their wide opened mouths. I think she inadvertently drowned some of them with her tears. Although, many were able to fly again and she released them into the blue sky. Chemo will be your worm sludge. I think about it and how it will affect you. These harsh concoctions that will drip into your viens while you sit patiently waiting for it to do it's job well. I promise not to drown you with tears. I will take my cue from you. Your motto is, courage. If you have that incredible capacity to muster up courage, to wear it like armor, to surround yourself with it even when you are scared than all of us must do the same. All of us, must keep that blue sky in mind.

Did I actually tell you that I clean toilets really well? I did, didn't I? Isn't it amazing how we all wish we could rewind the clock when we say ridiculous things right after we hear difficult news? Maybe I wanted to rewind it just so we could go back to the day before the first cancer cell mutated. If given the opportunity I would freeze that frame of life rather than my brain and stop this from happening to you. I wish so badly that you didn't have to take this journey. I wish with all my heart that pain and illness did not have to make itself at home in you. I wish, I wish, I wish so many things that mentioning them is truly fruitless, so I will stop wishing now. In the oft' quoted words of whoever, "it is what it is". That's the truth too. My little sisters wings have been clipped for now. Although, you are an intelligent, capable grown woman, it seems this cancer has put the indelible picture of you as a child in my memory. I see you as that cute little sister that followed me around. The one that was so excited when she graduated from the downstairs nursery to my big girl room upstairs. I was jumping for joy when you moved in with me. (Before I knew you grinded your little baby teeth down to small nubs in your sleep) Still, I loved having you with me and sharing a room. I loved bossing you around because I was finally the oldest one in the room. I loved playing stupid games before we fell asleep. You were a sweet child, always cheerful, always happy. Those wonderful childhood qualities followed you right into adulthood. It did not surprise me one bit when you announced that you would study to become a special education teacher. You are a perfect fit for that important position.

Thinking back to our conversation, I recall telling you that you should ask for what you need. I was hoping to convey that you still have control over certain aspects of your life. If you need someone to clean toilets, then you already have one volunteer. If you want meals cooked a certain way in order for your whole family to be able to enjoy them, tell us what to leave in or what to leave out. I know my husband won't eat anything with onions in it. Wouldn't that suck if you got all these delicious meals that one person in your family wouldn't eat? You may have cancer but you are still a wife and mother. That would bother you, I know it would. So, that was what I was trying to tell you. In a family of our size it is possible to be overwhelmed with good intentions. You may just want to have a quiet house and nobody dropping in at all. Or there may be days when being alone is the last thing you want. Every day your needs may change, depending upon where the roller coaster of emotions stops, long enough for you to catch your breath. If there is ever a time you can change the rules of life, it's now. You have the absolute power to choose how you want things to go when your body has betrayed you. Have you gotten mad at your breast yet? Do you look in the mirror after a shower and ignore the sick one? As a teacher I am sure you do not reward bad behavior in the classroom. I can just picture you thinking, "look you little shit, I am no longer rubbing Bath and Body Warm Vanilla cream on you, traitor" as you apply it everywhere else. You know me, I tend to handle all of lifes challenges with humor. It's how I cope in a humorless situation.

Two years ago, I was the sister with thyroid cancer. Now, I'm just one of us again. Presently, you are the sister with breast cancer. In a year or two, you will be just one of us again, also. Your strength and positive attitude amaze me. You are a beautiful person and I am proud to be one of your big sisters. Having said that, 3:00 A.M. can be a lonely time for someone with cancer. Alarm clocks no longer seem needed by people with cancer. Mortality has a way of waking people up and staring them in the face on a daily basis. You can call me. I will pick up. I might even be awake already. In a perfect world, we would all sleep soundly through the night without a care. In a perfect world, little sisters would not get cancer. Unfortunately, we don't live there. We live in this world, where people sometimes need to be grabbed by the hand and pulled through things. Luckily, you have five brothers, four sisters, a mom, a whole bunch of extended family and some wonderful friends. That's a lot of hands, reaching out to you. Whenever you need to, just let go. I promise, you will never hit the ground.

I Love You,