Have Fun with Your Chemo

"Have fun with your chemo..." A stupid thing to say. Maybe.

I have spent 47 of my last 51 Easters with my sister Ruth. Ruth, the woman who hasn't left 8th grade for 30 years. (She's a special needs teacher). Ruth, who literally works out 7 hours a week and eats right. Ruth, who loves to read, loves to act, loves to quote famous people with just the perfect quotation for the perfect occasion. Ruth, who I disagreed with on everything from politics to religion to Viet Nam to which of the two channels we'd watch on TV most of my growing up years.

Ruth, who met us in Moorhead this weekend to tell dad she has "triple negative" breast cancer... a type of cancer that usually affects African American and Hispanic women under 40.

Ruth, who knows how to make everything fun. Ruth, my oldest friend in the world.

We drove to Moorhead on Good Friday to meet with dad's financial advisor, consolidate some of his investments, and visit a few assisted living places. Dad turns 87 in May, and is thinking about selling the house and getting into a more manageable place. Ruth arrived from Jamestown on Saturday in time for a haircut (she says it's her last in a while), a visit to Eventide Assisted Living, and a "sneak out of the house with your brother to go to Starbucks where we can talk without anyone around" time.

"I'm not going to let the cancer define me or slow me down. It's a pain, and the chemo is going to be a strain and a drain, but it isn't going to change my schedule... aside from the fact that I'll have to drive to Fargo every day for radiation after the chemo."

When the parting came yesterday, we hugged in the driveway with a trickle in each eye and a little longer embrace than she usually gets from her brother. For the last 30 years, this pastor and teacher have parted with a "have fun with the rest of the year!" at Easter. So as I let go, it seemed all too natural to say, "Have fun... " And then I ended it. "...with your chemo."

I'll be back in three weeks for my nephew's graduation. By then the chemicals will have taken her hair, taken some of her weight and energy, and hopefully taken a lot of the cancer along with it.

Ruth is planning to finish teaching her 30th year of 8th grade special ed, lay low during the summer, watch Lucy and Jonny Carson reruns for the healing belly laughs,  continue to exercise every day, and live as long as she lives.

Live as long as she lives.

Maybe we all should do that.

Comments

[Ruth Brubakken]

Very sweet, made me cry. Editoral notes: it's 6-8th grade special education & most peope actually gain weight during chemo; I'm thinking it's because people bring you wonderful meals that include main courses, bread, salad AND dessert!!! And you feel too rotten to REALLY exercise it off! Later! Ruth
PS. I was right about the Vietnam War, wasn't I?

[Ruth Brubakken]

Very sweet, made me cry. Editoral notes: it's 6-8th grade special education & most peope actually gain weight during chemo; I'm thinking it's because people bring you wonderful meals that include main courses, bread, salad AND dessert!!! And you feel too rotten to REALLY exercise it off! Later! Ruth

[Richard Stals]

We'll be praying over here.