A year and a half ago, my youngest sister, Jennifer, was diagnosed with Stage 4 inflammatory breast cancer. There has been a lot of support for her since that time, and for that, I am thankful. Not everyone realizes that the type of breast cancer she has is not the kind that people overcome. With this diagnosis comes treatments for life, or until one decides that being a guinea pig for the medical community is highly overrated and the switch is made to palliative care. Jennifer made that switch about a month or so ago when she determined that chemo sucks and she wasn’t going to put herself through that miserable crap again. I can’t say I blame her. I think in the same situation, I might have made the very same choice.
To say that it’s hard to watch a loved one deal with cancer and then prepare to face the end of their own mortality is an understatement. I’ve known others who have walked this path but didn’t fully understand what they were experiencing until I had to walk it out for myself. But I have to say, it does make it easier to try to live in the present and make the most of the time I have left with her. There’s a sacredness to the time I spend with her now. To just be present in the moment without any bullsh*t or baggage from the past. To hang out and talk about whatever, including the tough stuff because it doesn’t do anyone any favours trying to be politically correct or to avoid the difficult conversations. I think we are well past that now. If anything, we share moments of rather dark humour at times. It’s hard to cry when you’re laughing, even about the hard things.
Being a task-oriented person, I made Jen’s final arrangements today. This was a necessary step, as well as being my homework from the grief counselor that I found through hospice (Note: they are there for the family and it’s important to be proactive and look after one’s own mental health). Today, the funeral home also sent over a template for writing an obituary, so I asked Jen about doing tackling that job ahead of time. She asked for something humorous, and being a somewhat witty person, I did my best. I sent it to her and she told me she laughed pretty hard, so it’s all good. It is such a weird thing to be doing, laughing with my sister at her own obituary. The dichotomy of laughing at something that is normally considered to be sad is not lost on me.
Are their regrets? I think there is always the regret of not having spent more time with the one who is dying. But regret and any guilt about it cannot change the past, so in this case, they are useless emotions. You always think you have more time. That goes for so many opportunities to spend time with others in life. There is always that silly notion that there will be more time. At least, until there isn’t. As Jen would say, that’s a Captain Obvious statement. Yep, that pretty much goes without saying.
All of us who love Jen are preparing themselves for what is to come, in our own ways, just as she is. It has been helpful to have tasks to do that are meaningful and useful. But now that most things are taken care of, it’s time to focus on the time we have left. To make memories that will be of comfort down the road.
I exhort you to hug your loved ones and enjoy their presence while you can. Tomorrow is never promised.
