cancer · grief · love · my sister


Being a CNA is a job people often complain about. They do all the work no one else wants to do. It is a thankless job. My sister was a CNA and loved it. Now, don’t get me wrong. She had rough days. BUT those rough days were mostly caused by co-workers, not  the residents where she worked.

My sister LOVED her residents. And they loved her. There wasn’t a thing she wouldn’t do for them. That showed very clearly in the way she treated the people at her job. To her, it was so much more than a job. The people there were somebody’s mom, dad, sister, brother, grandma, grandpa, etc. These people were someone’s family.

One of the hardest things for my sister to comes to terms with, was that she could no longer work. When she had her brain surgery, ALL her doctors told her to spend as much time with her family as she could. The question that ALWAYS came out of her mouth was:

When can I go back to work?

She was proud of her job. She was proud she did it by herself. She was proud of herself. It was something that she did and did very well.

As my sister fought cancer, I made it a point to tell her I was proud of her. I regularly told her how great she was doing. I figured maybe if she focused on herself as much as she had her residents, she would be around longer. She had done awesome at taking care of other people, maybe she could do the same for herself. Besides, she wasn’t just another person, she was my sister.

When her appetite began to slip, I nagged her. I’m an older sister with a mom streak. Nagging is what I do. I would ask if she ate, what she ate, when she ate. I would be on social media telling her friends to ask if she ate. There were so many foods, shakes, miracle advice we tried. I say we because I’d find something, get it together, and have her try it. She would hate something, but drink it anyways. She kept trying.

I would always say to her that every choice she made to either eat or not eat was literally life or death. She would try. She tried so damn hard. I made sure I always said I was proud.

“Kate, hearing you say that your proud….(crying) I love you”

“Krys, I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it. Now drink your damn shake”

I was proud of her. I will always be proud of her. I am proud of the mother she had become. I am proud she had enrolled in school to become a nurse. I am proud of her for giving her life for her son. I am proud of her for fighting so hard. I am proud of her for always just being her.

Most of all I am proud to call her my sister.



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