Reflections: I'm Back

It has been an emotionally draining past three weeks. There was a death in our family that shook many of us to the bone. People ask me if it was sudden and unexpected. My answer is yes - and no.

My sister, Sylvia, had cancer, so no, her death should not have been unexpected, but it was.

Sylvia did not want people to be sad and hurting while she was fighting her battle. And fight she did. Only her husband and a couple of her closest friends knew the truth of how much pain she was in.

My Man and Sylvia became ill, for want of a better word, about the same time. Both had very rare types of their illnesses; Sylvia had a rare and aggressive cancer (she never told anyone that, we found out at her funeral. We were only told that she had lung cancer and that the treatments were working, causing the tumors to shrink) and My Man has a rare form of vasculitis that attacked his kidneys. As Sylvia and I chatted over the course of her treatment, we discovered that their treatments were almost identical. Both were taking chemo drugs. My Man's chemo was in pill form everyday. The goal in his treatment was to compromise his immune system. Hers needed to be built up. At one time the two of them were receiving injections to boost blood cells that had been almost depleted, Sylvia's injections were to boost her white blood cells, My Man's was to boost his red blood cells.

I am not exactly sure when Sylvia became insulin dependent. My Man became so eight hours after starting his treatment plan. We discussed this often, my sister and I. She was one of my sources of strength when I needed it. She understood what he was going through.

Because both were fighting rare forms of their respective illnesses, Sylvia often joked that the two of them were rewriting medical textbooks. Most of the nurses that looked after My Man on the kidney unit had never dealt with what he has before.

Sylvia was on a new type of chemotherapy drug. Her treatments were administered at the hospital as most chemo treatments are. She lost her hair, she lost weight, but she never once let anyone see her pain, she never lost her sense of humour, or her compassion for those around her.

When I got the text that she was in the palliative care unit for pain management, I said to My Man, " oh, that's not good!"  and I made my plans to fly home to see her.

I arrived on Thursday and spent the rest of that day with her and my family. At one point during our visit, I thought that I was squeezing her hand too tight and tried to loosen my grip, but it wasn't me that was holding on so tight.
Our older sister, Ann and I made plans to have a sleepover in her room for Friday night. It was not meant to be. Our little sister returned to her heavenly home at 7:35 am on Friday morning. Our dad was with her when she took her last breath.

I was so angry at her for not telling us how bad it was. I feel deprived of time that I could have spent with her. On the other hand, I expected nothing less from her. She was our protector at a time when she needed our strengths and not our tears. She will be greatly missed, forever loved.