4 years and 6 months

There have been so many things I have wanted to write about perhaps none more important than this.

4 years, 6 months. One thousand, six-hundred and forty days. That is how much time has passed since my sister's surgery for Stage 3 Renal Cell Carcinoma - a fancy name for kidney cancer. Ironically, it was an accidental finding. Abdominal pain, blood tests for ovarian cancer (notoriously inaccurate) are negative. We all breathe a sigh of relief. Next step CT scan and lo' and behold - a mass on her left kidney. Surgery scheduled. That was it. No chemo, no radiation. Nothing but CT scans/MRIs and chest x-rays every six months. So every six months - a total of 9 sets of tests since. A total of 9 collective-breath holding events for everyone, but especially my sister. I can feel her fear, it's palpable. As the appointment with surgeon draws closer, the phone calls increase. We talk about everything, nothing. Anything except yo-know-what. Each time, the tests come back negative we all smile, breathe easier and say "we knew it would be negative."

We lie. We know no such thing. In fact, we live in utter terror that THIS time will be the one. The one where she hears the word cancer again. After all, our mother and 3 uncles all died from cancer. Another one is living with it. Our cousin's cancer returned this winter after a brief vacation from her life. Another cousin awaits her test results after surviving breast cancer. She is my age.

My sister has not had an easy life health-wise. Multiple surgeries. Two near-death experiences. Each time, I wonder, why her? Why not me? I never come up with an answer. Instead I pray for her health, I ask for patience and faith. I accept my job to be her biggest cheerleader, to never, ever, under no circumstance, let her see my fear. To love her fiercely. She would plotz if she even knew I was writing this.

We are separated by a mere 18 months. I am younger - a fact that I never let slide. But that is the only thing that separates us. I countdown the next 6 months silently with her. In July, she will reach that critical 5-year survivor mark. I'll let you all know how it goes.