How Is This Supposed To Go?

Patty called the other day to let me know the leukemia is back. She goes back to the hospital tomorrow for another round of chemo. A study drug they were trying may have been what damaged her lungs, preventing her from going through the full body radiation needed to ablate all of the leukemic cells in order for the bone marrow transplant so now they may do what is called a "mini transplant" instead, which may work but they cannot say for certain. Her voice broke as she spoke of palliative care and dying despite all of the efforts made so far to save her. She's my younger sister and I do not know how to do this thing that is being required of all of us.

What do you say besides "I love you," "I'm so sorry," and "What can I do to help?" How can you hold another adult in your arms and rock her back and forth to try to comfort what will never quiet, never stop hurting, never be welcome? How do I give to her all of the love in my heart; a heart that is so sore right now hope cannot even glimmer there a great deal of the time? How do you cry to a God in His Heaven who has always seemed to have deserted you in every hour of need, in every crisis, in every moment where His divine and healing presence would be so wonderful? Why do other peoples' prayers get affirmative answers while all of mine seem to fall on deaf ears? Why are my sister, my family, myself, so unworthy of the honor of a simple miracle of medicine and divine grace? Why does God refuse to express caring and concern in human perceptable ways; in ways we can feel, touch, and understand? We are constantly reminded by scriptures of our imperfections and weaknesses, so why does the God who has declared us as such demand perfections we will never be capable of delivering? Why are the cries for healing, mercy, and kindness seemingly redirected into oblivion as my sister is forced to go through all of this? I feel so hurt, so grief-stricken, so helpless and so angry! Why does God always say, "No?"

I will see Patty tomorrow and the kids will be there, as will Dad, our stepmother, and our youngest sister. We will try to laugh and talk, try to bolster one another's hopes in the knowledge that some people have recovered when they were even worse off than Patty is right now, but it does not feel as if our emotional balance will be in anyway helped by this knowledge as we traverse a tightrope that skirts far too close to death. The way is craggy and dark; frightening beyond all comfort, painful beyond all hope. Where will we end up after our rollercoaster ride into Hell and back?

If this is the beginning of another end in our family, I hope we are able to fill the time with love and laughter, bright hopes and soft caresses of hands, cheeks, hearts, and comfort. If I end up having to say a "good-bye" I dread, one I will continue to hope will not have to be said anytime too soon, I hope Patty knows that my very heart and soul go with her and that the final kiss I give her upon her forehead will forever seal her mind, heart and spirit within my own heart, and she will live there forever, always my younger sister, always held close and forever loved.