cancer · love · my heart · my sister


The birthing experience of my fourth was perfect. It went smoothly. I even go as far to say it was an enjoyable experience. However, that perfect feeling was disrupted by the actuality of the amount of attention number 4 needed from me. She was almost a carbon copy of my number 2. Only certain fabrics. Only certain lighting. It is not an exaggeration when I say the first four months of her life, she slept on my chest most of the time.

For a time, cancer didn’t exist. Cancer wasn’t there. It wasn’t mentioned. It was just outside the fence. My sister and I talked daily. Texting usually. Sending pictures. Typical daily nonsensical stuff.

She can’t have any more cancer. She’s so healthy. Her appetite is great. She doesn’t look sick.

“Kate, I woke up feeling great today!!!”

“Fam, I just maxed this burger. Kate it was great!!”

I’ve said something about calling to get her scans. She doesn’t seem worried. Should I be?

“Kate, don’t worry about it.”

“Kate, I will get to it.”

“Kate, they are working with the insurance.”

“Kate, don’t call me if this is the only reason you are going to call me.”

I haven’t heard from a doctor yet. They know to call me if she doesn’t answer.

Then the calls did start. The scans began getting scheduled.

Not my sister. This isn’t going to happen. I will not lose my sister to cancer. I will research every drug, every study, every damn thing I can find. We are going to fight this so hard there is no way we will lose. It’s not going to happen. This happens to other people. Not us.

That’s what my denial looked like. However, I didn’t stay there long. Reality slapped me in the face harder and faster than I could ever have imagined.




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