This moment replays daily in my mind.
“What’s that?” I asked my sister during one of her visits to my house in Tennessee. She told me it was nothing and not to worry. Even though that is what I heard, it’s not what I felt. I knew it was something and I started to worry a little. It was a lump in her armpit that was near her breast. I noticed it when she picked up Elliott. She was wearing a tank top and was holding her chubby nephew over her head and making him laugh. I wish I never saw what I saw, but I did, and I instantly wanted to jump on Google so I could look up whatever it could have been. She reassured me it was nothing because she was too young for it to be anything of any concern. She told me It was probably a cyst. I did feel a little comforted in her saying that because she did just complete nursing school and she was perfectly healthy otherwise. We had just completed a 5k color run that was held in the area. That was our thing and I figured she is ok, maybe I am just over reacting.
Well, I was right to react. A few months later on her birthday, our family was given the news that we had dreaded. It wasn’t just a lump. It was something that changed the dynamic of our family. It was something that you hope never happens to anyone you love. It was something that took our family from five to four. It was cancer, breast cancer.
I remember all of us being in Chicago for the news to be officially given to us. My sister had a few appointments and those appointments were meant to confirm what we had been dreading. I still remember the call. We were all in the living room of my mom’s apartment. I was on the couch with my husband taking a nap. I woke up to soft muffled cries. I immediately thought it was one of the kids, but they were still knocked out from lunch. I got off of the couch slowly looking for the source of the cry. The apartment was dim because we had all been napping. There was only one light on, and it was the lamp on my mom’s computer desk. As I walked around the corner to where the light was I realized it was my sister. She was sitting in our mom’s lap crying. At that moment, she looked like a small child that could only be comforted from the hug of their parents. My dad was laying on the couch too (it was a big couch). He woke up right after me. As my mom comforted my sister, my dad and myself embraced her. We all shared a cry. My sister kept saying she didn’t want to be a burden and she didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for her. We let her speak through her cries and we listened. When she stopped crying, I asked her how she felt physically at the present moment. She seemed kind of hesitant to answer. She finally said she felt fine. I told her good. At that moment, I could sense that I needed to say more because I think my sister sucked her teeth a little. I went on to explain why. I told her “this cancer right now is a mindset. You feel fine, so continue to feel fine. There are going to be days that you aren’t going to feel fine and that’s ok, but you feel fine now. Let’s cry and let it be the only time we cry. You are nowhere near weak, you are strong. Let’s enjoy this time we have together because none of us know what is to come of our lives. We are all here for you and just so you know, you will never be a burden. We support you just like you support us. We are in this together, homie.” At that moment, there was a slight sigh of relief. In that moment, our family came together to support one of our strongest members.
This day replays over and over in my mind. The playful goofy sister, me, said something that left an impression on the older more responsible sister. I like to think that conversation set the tone for her battle. She would often say, “let’s worry later, we have things to do”. I keep this mindset and believe it’s from what I witnessed over the last couple of years. Right is right and wrong is wrong. Control what you can and buckle up for the ride for the things that you can’t.
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