I Have Cancer, No Kidding

When my sister Wendy told me she had breast cancer, I thought it was a joke.  I called her first thing on a Saturday morning to chat and laugh, as we usually do, and asked, "What was the result of the test?"  

She replied, "I have breast cancer."

I knew by the tone of her voice, this was not a joke, but for a split second I thought she would say,  "Just kidding!"  She didn't.

I felt like bursting into tears, but held it in, I didn't want to freak Wendy out.   My first reaction was, I cannot lose my sister, she is everything to me, my best friend, my world.  She is more than my sister, I can't even explain in words how connected we are.

I somehow felt like this wasn't the way it was supposed to be, I was the sickly one, the one who was always struggling with health problems, food allergies, exhaustion.  I was the sister who had spent time in doctors offices and hospitals, being probed and poked.  I was the one who I expected to get a serious illness, not Wendy.

Wendy is a fitness instructor and  a runner who lives in Oregon, where the air so clear and crisp, it can give you a nose bleed.  

I live in toxic Brooklyn with black dust on my windowsills, and vermin living in my couch.  It just didn't make sense to me.

I know Wendy was scared, I was scared.  We didn't know how bad it was or the chance of recurrence.   

We talked on the phone, a lot.  She was on a roller coaster ride of emotions, and I was going with her.  Wendy was angry and I just couldn't figure out how to help her navigate out of that stormy cloud.  I listened and tried to be positive, I chanted at my Buddhist altar for the strength and wisdom to help her feel better.

We joked, as usual about all of the annoyances in our daily lives.  That always got us through the day.  Even the prospect of radiation and chemotherapy became funny, "first they'll burn you, then they'll poison you," my sister said.  

After Wendy's surgery and test results came back, we both realized how lucky she is.  She has low grade cancer that will probably not reoccur.  I felt I could breathe again, I was so relieved.

We now have a new cast of characters to joke about, the overweight receptionist at radiation named Feather, and Martha the nurse who likes to give hugs (Wendy does NOT like hugs).  

Our lives are perhaps forever changed, but we will always laugh our way through it.