Just when we think all is well, life throws us a curve ball. I received some distressing news about a family member (very distressing) and I found myself faced with the questions and the challenge of what to do next. This wonderful person has been through the ringer and has gone through and survived cancer, twice. Only to find out that she must now have heart surgery (as long as she remains ‘cancer free’). Then the news hit, cancer was spotted in her dermis cells. What the hell does this mean?!
Well I don’t mind saying I was so mad that, honestly? If I were in my house, I would have broken everything, every window, kicked every wall, broken every table; just anything that could have been broken. Not that I was angry at my sibling (obviously); no I was just so frustrated! I didn’t know what to do. And that Dill Hole of a doctor. This so called ‘specialist'; a Dermatologist who should have gone through proper channels and spoken to her oncologist to get the full story. But these doctors. They get so wrapped up on the case, they forget that there are people on the other end of the phone line and that it is a ‘person’ that defines that file.
They just spout off findings without feeling; without thinking!!! Oy veh! So, what does this mean? What am I to do with this and how am I to help her get through this? I feel horrible that I broke into tears; I should have been stronger. I just fell apart. I couldn’t get mad (one thing I do very well, but the one emotion she has difficulty handling from me), so, I crumbled. I should have been like our mother; a rock. I still can’t face her for fear I’ll falter.
It’s times like this where I’m faced with the question of why? Why her? I can take it Lord! It should be me!!! I’m feisty and will look the Devil in the eye and spit! This is not to say my sister is weak. She is not! When it comes to me, she will walk through fire; I’ve seen it first hand. But for some reason, she doesn’t feel herself worthy of the same fight. I fear that she will just give up and there is nothing I can do.
This is a woman who raised me (literally). After our father died, our mother was either very ill or stricken with grief (and who would blame her?). My sister took over the duties of ‘mother’ and raised me. Remember, I was only a year old when daddy died. She nursed my wounds, never judging when I came in with the skinned knees after playing. I remember one time when I was feeling particularly sorry for myself, she told me she had an errand to run. We drove round and round in circles and finally, after telling me she was lost, we ended up at Betsy Ross and she treated me to an Ice Cream Sunday. I can’t particularly remember why I was feeling sorry for myself, but it was probably for no other reason than the fact than I was the baby and nobody wanted to ‘play with me’ (boo hoo…). But she made it all better (something she did well; with me anyway).
But, fact is, she always made everything alright. And, for whatever reason, I can’t seem to do the same for her at this particular time. DAMN!!!! The fact is we don’t know the results. We only know what that ‘Dill hole’ of a doctor said. So, we are at a standstill and must wait. DAMN!!! I hate waiting and I HATE having no control. But we don’t. So; it is one day at a time and counting our blessings.