How our cancer story began: It has been said that there are moments that mark your life. Moments when you come to understand that things will never be the same. That time has been divided into two parts. Before this and after this. July of 2009 was one of those moments. My sister – my fierce, brave, young sister – was diagnosed with Stage IIB Cervical Cancer. Hearing her say “I have cancer” crashed into me, disoriented me, rendered me speechless and questioning all that I knew to be true up to that point. For an incredibly short period of time, I thought that this couldn’t possibly be happening. She’s so young, so beautiful, so healthy; her life is just starting. Yet, as quickly as I began to question the universes plan, I realized that I needed to help her carry this. See, as sisters we had seen hard times before, we knew how to travel the path of adversity together and navigate heartache and come out ok. And I knew that that notion, that understanding, that with each other we would always be okay would get us through anything. Even cancer.
How I provided support: I researched, a lot. I looked up every possible question that should be asked and all of the possible doctors that could help. I took time off from work, a lot. I went to every doctor’s appointment that I could, every chemo treatment, every surgery, and as many radiation treatments as possible. I packed bags with magazines, and protein packets, and a pillow. I caught vomit in bags, held hands, and wiped tears. I took phone calls, sent updates, filled out forms, and managed medication lists. I watched her lose friends, weight, and happiness. I gave her back memories when she began to lose them and helped her fight to find her way out of darkness. I spent nights without sleep worrying about her. I spent nights without sleep watching her in the hospital. I waited – in chemo rooms, and hospital rooms, waiting rooms and post-op rooms. I waited for updates and results. I waited for the cancer to die. I waited to get my sister back. And then it happened. She ended treatment, she went into remission. But we are still very much in the after this, after July 2009, stage.
Our life today: It has been nearly 6 years and I am just now starting to get back my sister. She has lost so much. Friends, trust, fertility, a strong, healthy body. Yet she has gained resiliency, a support group, better friends, a story. Our relationship, our sisterhood, has served us well. It has allowed us to take on moments like this. To sit together in silence, to have the hard conversations, to laugh in celebration. Watching my sister fight cancer showed me that she was strong. But more than anything it made me realize that she is also vulnerable, and that I cannot live without her.
My advice to other caregivers: I wish I could give the magic answer to help other caregivers navigate what they have embarked on. But just like each cancer story is different, each caretaker is as well. Listen to your loved one. Don’t let them push you away. Be their sustenance. Take care of yourself – you are needed.
Read my sister Alex’s story.
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