BoomerGirl Diary

I miss my sister, Ann, everyday. Ann was the oldest of five kids. And, as the oldest, she shared the parenting responsibilities of such a large brood.

Ann taught me how to do the twist to the Beatles; Ann taught me how to pluck my eyebrows; Ann taught me how to make a white sauce; Ann taught me that no matter what, what matters most is that I am true to my own skin. The last thing that Ann did for me was feel the lump on my left breast and look me in the eyes and say, "Rosie, you MUST get this checked out! As soon as the plane lands and you get back to Lawrence, call the doctor!"

That was 2003. I was visiting Ann and her husband in Austin. Ann's health was not good. The kidney failure she had lived with for the last several years had taken its toll. And, the moment I saw her when I arrived, I feared I'd never see her again. And, about that lumpy bump. I let Ann feel my boob, to get her take on a suspicious lump that had developed. It was almost an afterthought on my part. But, I had the presence of mind to have my big sister, Ann, check it out.

On March 21, 2003, the surgeon with the funny last name and pretty smile called me to say that that dark cloudy mass that she and I were introduced to the day before in her office on the x-ray screen was the enemy. It was late-stage cancer. After I stopped crying, I called my husband and then I called Ann. I didn't like it when Ann was right. And, this time, Ann sure wished that she hadn't been.

Ann was in and out of the hospital in Austin after developing complications from renal failure. I was on my way into Lawrence Memorial Hospital to have my left breast removed and 17 lymph nodes removed and examined. Ann and I would call one another at our respective hospitals and report our progress. But, even though I was making progress, Ann had little to report back. Her health was failing her. She was really angry. On a balmy May evening, I received a call from her beloved husband, Jim. He said "Annie died tonight, Rosie." I felt my heart break. I told my husband, "Nothing hurts more than losing someone you love. Nothing."

Chemo, radiation, surgery. It was all a piece of cake compared to losing Ann. Ann was a superb big sister. She was my biggest fan. She was like that. Her little sisters and her little brother meant everything to her. Her health prevented her from being able to bear children. But, in a lot of ways, we all were her kids.

When I visited her that last time, we sat in her kitchen and talked until it was dark. We had so much to say to one another. Eventually, Ann said, 'I can hardly see you! My god we've talked for almost three hours straight!' Ann had me look at every single antique postcard she had collected. We were up late the last night I was there to review each and every one. She wanted to show me all that was right with her. Her amazing postcard collection was something she wanted me to understand.

Ann was an amazing artist. Her quilts, paintings, sketches adorn many walls in my house. My kids tell me that "Aunt Annie always gave THE best presents!" That was what she insisted upon. She gave everything she could to those she cared about. Everything.

Ann showed me how beautiful a person is, when they express those things they find to be beautiful. She told me to take care of that lump and saved my life in the process.