Sisterhood
- Deb Dekoff
- Oct 16, 2016
- 3 min read
There is a quiet sisterhood that is cloaked in an invisibility shawl not seen to the outside world. It is kept hidden, under loose fitting shirts, colorful headscarves, and well wefted-wigs. It is whispered about, except on occasions that are reason for celebration - like Breast Cancer road races and cancer- free anniversaries where shouts of elation permeate the news on social media . Members stand on the ready to steady a new sister as she stands on the uneven path set before her. They come, in tag teams, and hold her hand while they walk in solidarity. Sisters offer words of comfort, how to deal with the physical and mental strife that is sure to surface. They bear gifts of advice, of questions to ask physicians, of a shoulder to cry on. They prepare you for the worst, so you are not blind-sided by yet one-more-thing, but hope with a fervor known only to one who has suffered, that you, new sister, never experience the worst.
Cancer is the spider in the center of the web, and each silky thread can lead one either spiraling towards the center to be consumed, or away from the center: towards hope Sisters stand at each juncture, leading, balancing, and guiding. They form a distraction, a "don't look down, look at me", as the web is navigated. They form a safety net, because there is surety in numbers, and they know the wobbles will be many. They form a synergy of unity, and wordlessly pass you to the next sister, knowing she'll be there, to continue to lead out and away from this labyrinth.
These sisters know. Mysteriously, they have surfaced at just the right time, on just the right day, with just the right words.
But some sisters, I've learned, are absent. Although they've been snared in the web and were led out, they avoid approaching this lattice and broaching this walk with a new sister altogether. We know they were here - the other sisters whisper. They fear, perhaps, that by coming too close, that the web may nab them again. They fear, perhaps, the resurfacing of memories that were all too unpleasant. They fear, perhaps, fear itself.
Here's to the sisters I've met along this journey, in the order of meeting them on this journey:
Katrina:
Who has traversed the web four times, and know better than anyone, that there is a way out, and that it is the sisterhood that will lead you there.
Kristen: Who has created a company from her needs as a cancer patient. I've become her photographer, and the work has a deeper meaning.
Amy: Who walked and talked with me days after surgery, offering hope and wisdom.
Terry: There are no words that can express the deep caring, love, and advice that Terry has given me. Terry keeps my spirits up, first, by offering confidence in the care I would receive at the Huntsman. Then by offering words of strength and knowledge. Next, by sending a backpack filled with comfort items before the first chemo: Tea, socks and more socks, word puzzles, coloring books, gift cards, cards, notebooks, thank you cards...my "chemo day backpack" and in the mail - a weekly card or two or three. And just yesterday, a teacup infuser with herbal tea. She is by far, the sister that has helped me the most.
Angela: Whose snare in the web was the worst by far, yet she offers wisdom, friendship, and guidance on how to navigate with chemo, wigs, and more.
Laurie: Who informs me that I WILL be stronger, I WILL get through this, I WILL have more strength and focus than ever before. And, "You know those strong New York type of women? The one's that don't take any crap from anyone? The ones you look up to and say, "Wow - what power, what strength?" You'll be like them. You'll say what you mean. You'll get things done. And YOU won't take crap from anyone."
This sisterhood is strong.
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