Fuck cancer fuck fuck fuck.
Fuck.
When you're the sister of cancer, those are the words you want to say. What you actually say is some supportive and positive generic bullshit sequence of lines that are so inconsequential that you will never remember them.
The second thing that goes through your mind is "I wish it were me".
Everything feels inconsequential yet enormous all at once. I cried putting gas in my car. I was mad I had to do it because I loathe it unnaturally. Then I cried because I felt guilty that I have a car and places to go that I am able to do such a task and I'm terrible for even being mad about such a thing.
There are bigger things in life. Like cancer.
My brother has cancer. A rare one. Leave it to my brother to be the special snowflake and get the rare cancer. It's in his abdomen. A series of seriously unfortunate events and the removal of a tumor and we have ended up in the exact opposite place any of us ever thought when my brother originally complained of stomach pain.
Yet here we are. We each have a role to play, all of them seem harder than having the actual cancer sometimes. My sister the nurse, my mom the nurturer, my dad the pragmatist. Cancer is not just a disease. It's a way of life. It's the knot you carry in your gut everyday, it's the sad song you always cry to because now it has more meaning than you ever thought it would. It is the way you drive extra carefully to ensure nothing happens to you because your family cannot take any more bad news. It is the constant cooking and baking you do because following tasks right in front of you without any more thought seems to be the easiest way to fill your time.
My brother has one major job - to follow a treatment plan. His job is to get better and eventually be in remission. When you're the sister of cancer, you are not allotted a job but you feel like you need one. So you go to work and text your family while they are at doctor appointments to make sure you know everything thats going on. You then have to update all of your coworkers and friends about that status and try to maintain composure so you don't make anyone feel uncomfortable. You're always aware of how other people act around you once they know. Then you come home and cook for your family because they haven't been home and when they get home they will be too tired to cook because they have spent hours/days/weeks at hospitals. Then you read on the internet about the doctors and the hospital and the treatment for the hundredth time. Then you clean your house because you're still living - or at least going through the motions. Then you cry. You cry in the shower and you cry on your way to work and you cry because its been the natural reaction of your body for months now.
My brother has the worst job of all. So much of it is out of his control. His body and the miracles of modern science have to work together to get him in remission, my brother is just the vessel that has to remain strong enough to get through it. It's fucked up and unfair. No job is a good job because cancer is literally the worst. But if you're not the sick one and you don't go through the treatments, there is a very distinct feeling of helplessness that is impossible to replace with any other feeling.
We are struggling. We are struggling to accept why the universe or God or whatever divine presence exists, has bestowed this fate on such a good person in this world. We are struggling to define our roles and how we can best help my brother. We are struggling to figure out how to help and support each other. We are struggling with our faith - either in god or science. We are struggling with enjoying life. The devastating irony is that when cancer hits so close to home, you TRULY realize how valuable life is and how important it is to live it to the fullest, yet you feel guilty even trying.
I looked up quotes about strength and faith and read inspirational stories, searching for something to speak to my heart and give me some words to carry with me. What I came up with is "FUCK CANCER". Because, seriously, fuck it. I'm going to be angry because cancer does not get my sympathy and its not something you get through because it is always there, even in remission.
Being the sister of cancer sucks. But being the sister to my brother, Ronnie, is the best, most fun job there is. He is charming and witty and handsome (ugh don't tell him I said that) and smart and thoughtful and a legit dungeons and dragons type of nerd. He can be condescending and a little bit of a hermit and he is pretentious with his tastes in whiskey. He flies kites and searches the stars in his telescope and loves fantasy. He is a really good part of this world and one of the biggest most important parts of my world. I am overwhelmed with sadness and grief, my heart hurts. There is nothing in the world that I love more than Ronnie. My family is everything that I am.
So I will do a job, and I will cry, and I will grieve, and I will laugh and I will smile. Because I'm Ronnie's sister. And Fuck Cancer.
I can't...right now.
Sara <3
