It’s 4:45 a.m. I’m exhausted. I’m cold and I’m emotionally spent. There’s nothing left in the tank. It’s all gone.
I had plans to spend a quiet evening at home with my husband. We enjoyed a late lunch date, went home and turned on the tunes in the backyard, made a drink and settled in for some outdoor couples therapy. I could feel the stresses of the week just melting away.
An hour or so later I picked up my phone to check the time and noticed I had a Facebook message. The message read; “Family emergency I just found out the doctors at OU Medical are giving Mom two days to live.”
The message was from my nephew. My older sister was in the hospital and losing her battle with cancer.
Several calls later and my younger sister and I arrived at the hospital. I walked into the room and was shaken at the sight.
There she was 100 lbs lighter, frail, weak, pale, and her voice barely just a whisper. The lever on the dam of tears broke as I no longer had any control over my emotions as tears freely flooded down my cheeks.
Watching her now, wired to machines, I see what the nurses don’t. I see a strong woman. A woman ever bit as sassy, direct and opinionated as myself. I see the dark haired pre-teen who would daily beat the crap out of me after school as we fought over the telephone, video games, what show to watch on TV, or just the fact she was on MY side of the room.
No, the woman lying in this hospital bed next to where I’m sitting, is not my sister. My sister is not weak, frail or losing any battle to stupid cancer. I can’t… I won’t… I’m simply not ready to say goodbye.