Outrage, Clarity, Appreciation, Celebration

I mentioned, in an earlier post, that we recently discovered that my sister's cancer has returned. She has two large tumors, one rascally one that has wrapped itself 'round some major arteries and blood vessels.

She and her family are headed to St. Louis, MO, to Barnes Hospital, on Monday, and she will go into surgery on Tuesday, around noon.

Though we know she is going to be fine; it is a very serious surgery, and so, extremely nervewracking to all of us. The doctors there, of course, have the legal obligation of giving us every single scary possibility. It's a complicated surgery, will entail a lot of blood loss, and blood transfusions. They expect to keep her in ICU for two weeks.

You can understand: We are edgy. She will be fine, but there is no denying that we all dread the next few days. Surgery. Yuck. Worry. Stress. Headaches. But she will be fine.

This is the second time she's done this, and I don't think she'll mind if I tell you: She's not as chipper this time around, as she was the first. Sometimes, this time around, she just doesn't feel like being so damned strong. "So don't!" I tell her. My big sisterly advice, heh: Go ahead and gnash your teeth.

But she is strong. She buckles up and rallies, and she is damned strong. She's so freakin selfless, it blows me away. The day she found out, she called me crying, yes, but her first words to me, "I can't do this to everyone again." That, 10 minutes out of the doctor's office, kiddies.

And I'm not writing here, to convince you of her strength. If I keep going, she's going to read this and get all choked up and start crying again, and we've had enough of that.

I'm writing today, to VENT. I am, this evening, outraged. Angry. Livid.

My sister lives in a small town. Word tends to spread, in a small town, and networking can be a bit tighter, for good or bad. The first time my sister had cancer, a woman in this small town gave her a call. Her son goes to school with my nephew.

The woman offered to raise my nephew, in the event that Teri didn't make it.

Stop the presses! What? This woman, my sister does not even know, called to take her son away, in the event of her death. It's a nonissue, I know, but uh....there is her husband Tim, her daughter, Brandi. Me. Our Mother. Tim's family.

So the woman is certifiable. No use getting upset over a nutjob such as this. She has come to mind recently. I thought "Jesus, I hope Crackpot Woman doesn't call Teri again." Why on EARTH, did I not bring it up to Teri? Teri's had so many other things on her mind that she FORGOT about crackpot woman.

Teri called me this evening. She didn't get much sleep last night, and she asked me, "How can it be that 5,000 people can hold you up, and 1 comment from one idiot can completely undo you?"

Crackpot Woman DID call her last night, offering her prayers, and her "moral support" to my sister. After offering all of this "moral support", she said to my sister,

"Honestly hon, I don't think you're going to make it."

I know.

I heard you.

The Gasp Heard 'round the World. I heard it.



Teri and I both know she's the "sweet" one in the family. She's much more tender-hearted than I am, doesn't like confrontation. She's like Mom.

But I'm like Dad.

Teri politely "begged to differ" with the woman, and got off the phone, depressed as hell and didn't sleep a wink.

I, upon hearing the news, had a complete hissy fit. Hissy fit. Make no mistakes: I prettied that up.

I pointed my finger at my little sister. She wasn't even here! She was calling from her own home, and still I waved my arm around and pointed my finger, and I told her

If that bitch EVER calls you again, you call me. She will know, in no uncertain terms, that she is never EVER to contact you again, as long as she lives.

Turns out my niece had already delivered the same speech, and had picked up the phone to tell her that herself, but Teri kept her from it.

****

Why am I writing this? I have no idea. I really do walk around in general wonder at the kindness and generosity of the people in this world. I'm blown away every day, by the gestures made to my sister in her battle, and by those made in my own life, right now. You'll hear more about this.

And we know, logically, that this woman that says these hurtful things to my sister...she is...crazy, or unhappy, or evil. We know, ultimately, that we have to let it go, that there is nothing constructive about dwelling on her intent, her audacity, her idiocy, her ignorance, or, mostly likely, her insanity.

We know.

This is not about us.

It is still unbelievably difficult to let it lie. To not give her the power to manipulate us into anger, hatred, and outrage, in a time when we desperately need peace, faith, and love.

...

And that sentence just came spilling out of me, and it was the answer I was looking for. It's what I was after.

Wow. Thanks for talking to me, I feel a lot better now, you were so helpful.

And send a holla out to your God, or wish upon a star, or cross your fingers, sing a song, or dance a jig, or raise your glass for my sister, and our family, now, and next week.

We'll take all the positive energy we can get.

As soon as we get through this, then, you're all invited over. We'll celebrate.

We will.