Living with Terminal Cancer: My Sister's True Story

Hearing the fateful words, that a loved one has been given a basic "death sentence" tends to drag you down. Yet even as my sister took the words, she proved the doctors wrong. Diagnosed with a Glioblastoma Multiform (brain cancer) she would never give up. Sometimes the people who grow the weakest teach us about true strength. Some people believe strength comes from building muscles, being able to wrestle or having the most intelligence. Missy* was one of the strongest people I have known in my life.

She taught second-grade students, having never been able to have children of her own. Always smiling, and inviting people to enjoy the life she did. After numerous strong headaches, that would even make her sick at times, she finally went to the doctor. After the MRI, and CT scan, the tumor was discovered. The mass growth was beyond repair, even though they did try to remove what they could. Something had triggered the growth, and it showed no signs of ceasing. Missy smiled and looked to the doctor stating words that will always repeat in my mind. "When it is my time, it is my time." She showed me how to live life to the fullest, when you never know tomorrow will be your last.

Every day, she would walk into the restroom, look in the mirror to her changing appearance and smile. That smile could light up the room, even when the steroids began shaping her into a different person. Soon enough she had to quit her love, teaching. Though the children would go on to send presents, and visit her. When her hair began to fall out, due to the chemotherapy, she went out and got some new wigs. Having always been a dark brunette she went wild. Or so she said, purchasing blond, red, and even a bright pink one.

Some days she would just go out proudly showing off her bald scalp. The chemotherapy, one she opted to try to help further the studies was harsh. Making her sick some days. I remember sitting with her in the mornings and watching 'Mash' while drinking Apple Juice. Orange Juice, and milk were out of the question, too harsh for her stomach so early. The year she was diagnosed, I remember we had a large storm in the state, producing record breaking tornado rankings. The day after, she wanted to go to Red Lobster. There was a child there, one she knew as a teacher, who came up to her. such a beautiful child, not because of appearance, but because of the words.

When he came up to her, and took her hand, introducing her to his mother. The second grader calmly looked up to Missy and asked in his young voice. "Will you be my guardian angel." Still thinking about those words, it brings tears to my eyes, the innocence in that statement. Missy, even in her weakened state gathered him in her arms and smiled to him. "Of course, I will keep all of my children safe." The child was appeased and left us, though I think back now and realize what she meant. Even though she would never be able to have children of her own, she thought of all of her students as her children.

Missy contributed so much to life when she was with us. The night she passed away, she said she would not give up until my brother left the room. Even in her comatose state, she knew when he left the room because that was when she took her last breath, leaving us with memories, and a deep sense of loss. Though now thinking back on those moments. Even though she is gone, she is still with us. It is evident everyday when I look around. Missy was a dear person, just as everyone is. Yet she taught me one thing. Even with a death sentence, one can live. Do not take any day for granted.

Always look to tomorrow, for you never know when it might be your last. Tell those you love, everyday that you love them. Never go to bed angry, and always remember, there is someone out there who will remember you!