If you’ve followed my blog from the beginning, you know a little about my sister’s battle with Breast Cancer. I wrote Pink Boxing Gloves and Pink Boxing Gloves-Three Year Later, because my sister’s favorite color is Pink. And she’s a fighter!
This October marks her four-year anniversary since she got the clear that she’s free, and each time she gets a check up, there’s the holding her breath moment right before the doctor says, “We’re good. See you in six months.”
Saw a woman the other day wearing a baseball hat over her completely bald head and was instantly reminded of that time, not that long ago, when my sister lost her hair due to chemo. And if you’re a girl, few things compete with the loss of your crown, your hair, a woman’s glory.
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Being back in Long Island, we went back to our daily phone conversations, and shortly after my sister’s second round of chemo, she noticed a lot of her hair was falling out. Sandi told me that if she could make it to the weekend, she’d ask her hubby to shave her head. She already bought a wig that she liked and she texted me a picture. She looked gorgeous with it on, and it didn’t look too different from her hairstyle other than it was blonder than I’ve ever seen her. Why not be a blond for a day!
When it came time to shave her head, she swung from one extreme to the other with regards to her, at the time, twelve-year old son. Wanting to protect him, at first she vowed never to let him see her without the wig on. Then, after being encouraged to let him be a part of her experience, she actually asked him help cut her hair. I asked her to text me a pic of her if she felt comfortable. I was surprised and grateful she actually did. And the pictures were so precious. She actually looked gorgeous, huge danglies hanging off her ears. She had a nice-shaped head after all!
I asked her if she cried. She said that when her hubby made the first cut, she had a moment. I told her, “You, of all people, are allowed to have a moment.”
Moments, in fact. Sigh. Then a light bulb turned on, and she decided to try different short hairdos while she was in the process of getting to scalp. She figured at some point, her hair would grow back, so why not try out different styles for the future haircuts she’d be getting. Brilliant! In one picture she sent, she sported a total Halle Berry look! Beautiful!
When it was all said and done, between the wig and bandannas and some really cute hats, my sister made it through the next few months. Not that it was always easy. At times, her scalp would really itch, and she’d lose sleep from all the irritation. At times, the wig was just not that comfortable. At times, she was sick of looking in the mirror and seeing no hair. At times, she still had a moment. And so did I.
When her youngest son was about to have his first birthday, I made a last second decision to fly to Atlanta and help her with the party. The date also marked the end of her chemo! My plan was to show up, be helpful, have some fun with my sis and nephews, and head back home. I love party prep, and I spent the morning of running errands with my sister to pick up food and favors and stuff for the after party.
At one point, while stopped at a red light, she turned to me and said, “Can you believe it? Who would have thought that I’d get cancer? It still shocks me sometimes.” She spoke frankly but didn’t lose it emotionally.
I just shook my head no, because I felt my heart welling up in my throat, and we still had a lot of running around to do. Focus on her, not me. The light turned green. We drove to our next stop.
At one point, Sandi got peeved. She told me to put my credit card away. My sister said that if she needed the help, she’d have told me. Nothing like a battle at the cash register when the bullied cashier feared taking either card. I finally relented, and the party went on with cake and giggles galore.
Before I said goodbye, I left a little book on Sandi’s nightstand that I had written in beforehand. The cover read Sisters and had a picture on each page of two women or two girls or two teens. Next to each shot the editor added a quote about what big sisters and little sisters mean to each other. Each sentence applied. Each line brought back a memory. Next to each quote I penned the words, “Of course!” or “Remember when….” so that she could hear my heartbeat as she read the pages. I wanted her to know how often I thought of her and how precious she was to me.
She was my best friend.
She is my best friend.
And best friends stick together.
My sister called me the next day, after I returned from Atlanta and told me how much she loved the book. She was actually out-of-town on business and had thrown the book into her carry-on to have something to read on the plane. She told me that it made her cry. She loved the pictures. The quotes. But especially my comments and my letter on the back cover. It was a reminder that we will get through this together.
I never know what will touch my sister, because she’s never been sentimental like that. I’m the gush-mush, cry about everything sister in the family. But that tiny book allowed me to be there for her. Even though I was all the way over here.
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Happy Birthday, Sandi! And Happy Four Years Free! Thank God for you every day. To another year of loving and laughing. Good and bad hair days. And sharing the journey. Love you so much, Baby Sis. Cheers to another year! *Clink Clink*
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Do you have a friend/family member who you think about every October during Breast Cancer Month? Are you running along side someone right now as they fight the fight? Have you seen Nicole Johnson’s, Stepping Into the Ring? One of my all time favorite skits by her. Be warned: bring some tissues.
