With permission, I’m going to tell you about what’s been going on in my world for the last few weeks and why I haven’t been as a good a blogger as usual. I’m having a tough time focusing on much of anything right now because my heart and mind are so absorbed by my sister/friend, Dee. She’s in trouble…medical trouble. After seven arduous weeks of testing that included two weeks at Mayo Clinic, she’s been diagnosed with liposarcoma of the retroperitoneum. Google it if you want more details, but suffice to say, she has a malignant tumor in the back of her abdominal cavity and it’s sort of taken over her insides to the point that surgery isn’t an option. In the next couple of weeks, she starts chemo, probably an aggressive treatment, and chemo most likely will be followed by radiation.
Dee has cancer.
What terrifying words. Dee has cancer. My Dee, whose vitality and energy has been my inspiration to get off my ass and move for damn near thirty years, is now exhausted from weeks of biopsies and laparoscopic explorations into her small body. She’s always been slender, but now she’s just plain thin and anticipating the loss of her hair, which is rightfully a point of vanity for her. Her hair is gorgeous, thick and a naturally lovely combination of white and grey. People stop her in the grocery to ask her who does her hair color and she just smiles and replies, “God.” Now she knows she’ll be losing it and has already said that she’ll shave her head and wear a wig.
With that one declaration, “I’ll shave my head and wear a wig,” I knew that she’d come home from Mayo ready to fight for her life. And by God, I intend to fight with her. I’ve never done this before—fought with a friend through cancer. Although I’ve known people with cancer, I’ve never been so close to the battle. But I can’t imagine letting her to do this without me.
So Dee, here’s my promise to you. I’ll be there for you. I’m ready to fight. Ready to make you tasty meals and food that will strengthen and nourish your body, ready to drive you to treatment and hold your hand as you sit through hours of a chemo drip. Ready to hold the puke bucket if you need it, although I’m praying you won’t because I know how much you hate to barf. I’ll be there to listen and be your confident as I have always been. I’ll be right there to laugh with you, pray with you, cry with you… I’ll be by your side whenever you need me.
I’m here, baby. I love you and I will fight with all my heart for you. We will win this wicked battle and in thirty years, we’ll be on the porch, drinking wine and laughing, getting just buzzed enough to shout “f*** you” at folks who drive by and dare to make fun of two old ladies in rocking chairs. We’re gonna be there, Mon Amie—exactly like we’ve always planned.