Stories for US

When I received that phone call — it’s cancer — I didn’t panic. Everyone gets breast cancer these days. A little chemo, a little hair loss, a quick surgery and maybe some radiation, and you’ll be as good as new. She’d be fine. We’d be fine. She did it all with grace and dignity and bravery. Her hair grew back. She talked to everyone and anyone about their diagnoses. She was POSITIVE. Oh so positive. She went through menopause with a smile on her face, figured out intimacy and hot flashes and dry skin (a first for her!). And then there was a bump. In her neck this time. A knot? A muscle spasm? For the first time ever, the thought of her cancer being back didn’t come. Until it did. This time when the call came in — it’s stage IV metastatic breast cancer — the panic came too. The endless google searches for “how long does she have?” The worry. The tears. The holding onto the moments. Two years later, those fears live within me but with a newfound appreciation for this moment, right now. She’s here. Her laugh, warmth, advice, listening ears, are still here. Her love for her nieces, her amazing friendships, her shared life with her new husband, her love of travel — all are still here, stronger than ever. These are the stories of us. Me, her little sister, and she, my big. Together from my first breath. May these memories carry our stories together on well beyond our last.