My sister was diagnosed with breast cancer at the end of August. Cancer. That big, scary word. It carries such power… if you let it. Her diagnosis was a tough reality to swallow for many weeks. I would wake up in the morning, and my first thought was, “my sister has breast cancer”. It was the last thought when my head hit the pillow each evening. And it would hit me throughout the day, seemingly out of nowhere, causing tears to well in my eyes for fear of what she was feeling and the what-ifs of the unknown . Thankfully, the edges of this sharp reality are finally beginning to soften as my sister moves along her journey toward healing.
She has been a true warrior woman each step of the way, taking her treatments like a champ, battling through severe nausea and exhaustion, and facing each day with bravery and confidence. It would be easy (and quite understandable) for her to retreat into the dark place where fear blocks the light. But instead, she is running toward health, saying “yes” to whatever her doctors say she needs, not with an absence of fear, but despite it. That is true courage. My sister is the first to tell you that her strength comes from God alone, in no small part due to the outpouring of prayers and encouragement from a network of friends and family that wraps around the globe.
That is the beautiful thing about cancer (which I know sounds like an oxymoron). It’s terrifically scary, but it also has a way of uniting all the good things. It wakes up what needs to be awakened (relationships, gratitude, awareness of the beauty around you in nature and your fellow humanity); it’s a balm for what needs to be soothed (frustrations that pale in comparison, grudges that were never worth it, vices that were long ready to be given up), and it reminds us that change is a necessary part of life so we best appreciate the present moment and the presence of our favorite people, every single day. Cancer has inspired our family to reach across physical and emotional distances to come together in a new realm of love and gratitude.
When my sister was first diagnosed, the mass was 8 cm., rock hard, attached to her chest wall, and registering in her lymph nodes. After four “red devil” chemo treatments, one of the most aggressive treatments available, that mass is now a 2 cm. soft lump, completely unattached and on. its. way. OUT! Her lymph nodes are now all testing normal, and perhaps the best news she has received yet is that her BRACA test was negative, alleviating her fears for her three daughters’ future.
This Thanksgiving as I reflect on what I am most thankful for, my sister’s improving health will certainly be at the top of the list. So will the attentiveness of her doctors, the caring nurses, and my sister’s access to and ability to afford premium care. And so will her doctors’ insistence that I get an early baseline mammogram and ultrasound (both came back clean, praise God). And so will the health of my husband, my parents, my in-laws, my nieces and nephew, as well as FaceTime, plane tickets, laughter, and love.
I will happy dance for years to come the day cancer is officially G-O-N-E from my sister’s body, but in the waiting, I am grateful my gratitude list is significantly longer this Thanksgiving.
To God be the glory, great things he has done. And he’s just getting started.
swimming toward the shark 