Items

• 2021-03-06

  This is not how this is supposed to go.

  Friday, March 13, 2020, was my last full day in the office before the shutdown. We came home that night not knowing what was next. Then my sister called. Things hadn't been right for a couple of weeks, she said, and when she had been to the doctor that morning he ordered her directly to the MRI lab. And there it was. Cancer. The exact same kind that had taken our mother a few years ago. And our grandmother several decades ago. Dammit. So what do you do? You get on a plane, you go there tomorrow, and you face this thing together, as family, right? Except no. It's COVID time, and only one person was even allowed to accompany her to the hospital for surgery three days later. We all decided that my other sister should be there, since she has medical expertise and also a more flexible schedule. But yeah. Here I am, on the other side of the country, not knowing whether my sister would live through the day and not able to go be with her. It's a year later, and I'm very relieved to say that she's still with us, lasting far longer with this diagnosis than either our mother or grandmother did. Still very much in the fight. But thanks to this damned disease, and to everyone whose stupidity has caused it to last longer and be worse than it had any need to be, I have seen her exactly once in the last year. For about ten minutes. Right before her second surgery. Will I get to see her again? Who knows? We have a trip planned in a few months, if things get better with this pandemic. And if she lasts that long. It's sad and exhausting and infuriating and unchangeable.