A Dark Moment

As you can see from my more recent post, not everything in my life has been a bed of roses or made of sunshine and rainbows. Today, I’m going to share with you one of the darkest moments of my life. 

It was January 1994. I had taken some time off from work and gone to visit my sister. She says she's feeling very distended and she looked like she was about six months pregnant. While I was visiting, she saw her doctor. He ran all kinds of tests. A few days later he called her in for a follow-up and asked her to bring someone with her. Her husband was working 60 miles away, and her teenage kids were in school so I was the lucky one to go with. I remember waiting in the waiting room for what seemed like ages while she went in to chat with her doctor. She was visibly upset, but not ready to talk about what was going on. Turns out she had just been diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer. Absolutely zero symptoms, other than the distended belly. Dr wanted her to go to Salt Lake City (about 3 hrs from where she lived) and report in for surgery first thing in the morning. I drove her the 60 miles south to meet up with her husband who managed to get off work. He took her the rest of the way to Salt Lake City. I went on home (the kids were old enough to manage a day or so on their own, plus they had neighbors looking in on them).  

I had been unhappy with my job as it was becoming a pretty toxic environment. The hospital was in the process of being bought out and management was looking to cut as many from staff as possible. It was to the point that if you looked at someone wrong, they would find a reason to let you go. In light of my sister's diagnosis, I quit my job and moved to be closer to her. Eventually I moved into her home.  

After her surgery, my sister went through 2 rounds of chemo. It made her so sick. Countless trips to the emergency room because she was having difficulties with her stents and she had a few more surgeries. The doctor wanted her to have a third round of chemo, but she declined. It had taken such a toll on her body. She lost so much weight - she was down to less than 95 pounds and she couldn't eat.  

Christmas came around and everyone from her church rallied around her. Her family received wonderful gifts and they had taken up a collection of funds for her. My presence wasn't even acknowledged. I felt so left out. 

To make things worse, I would overhear my brother in law tell his kids ‘if you ever need an example of how not to live your life, take a look at your aunt'.

My sister's mother in law would call three times a week just to tell me that ‘When your sister dies, you will no longer be able to live there’. I asked her reason why and was told that it would be inappropriate for me to live in a house full of boys. Hmmm last I checked, they were still family - what could possibly be inappropriate about that? 

In May 1996, I learned of a job opportunity working what should have been my dream job. I moved to Utah so I could be considered for the position. I called my sister frequently.  

On July 1, when I called her she was extremely weak, unable to speak long and unable to hold the phone. I felt as though that would be the last time I spoke with her. 

On July 4, I received a call from the guy that I had been seeing - asking me to come rescue him in Winnemucca Nevada. His vehicle had broken down on the side of the road and the parts he needed were in a storage shed we shared. A few moments later, I received the call that my sister had passed. Knowing I couldn't do anything for a few days, I took off for the middle of the desert, thinking I would drop off parts and head home. Instead, I ended up driving all the way to Ukiah, California. Learned an awful lot about my very soon to be ex boyfriend - including the fact that he was still married. 

I made it back home safely after a few harried days. I had a message waiting for me on my return. I had been accepted for this job that I badly wanted and needed. The catch - I had to start training the day before my sister's service, and I was not allowed to miss any time during the entire month of training. I approached General Manager and asked for special permission to take the day off. I was told no. 

I was at such a loss. I felt let down by so many people. But I also knew in my heart of hearts that I had already said goodbye to my sister, and she would have wanted me to keep moving forward. So I accepted the position and missed the funeral.

I was sharing an apartment with my ex, trying to save up enough to get my own place. One day he was angry about something and threw an entire phone at me. Not one of these tiny iPhones, either. It was a full on house phone. Thankfully it missed, but he then put his fist through the wall. I was upset when I went to work the next day. A coworker wanted to know what was going on. So told them. Next thing I knew, arrangements for a place of my own were made and we were leaving work early to gather the few belongings I had and I was completely moved in to the new place before my ex got home from work. 

I stayed at that job, but I was still really struggling with the grief process of losing my sister. One of my friends in Idaho had recently been laid off from her job at the nuclear site. She suggested that we deserved a vacation. We decided to visit our brothers in Spokane and then a week in Portland and the Oregon coast. But neither of us knew anyone in Portland, so we did the unthinkable, the unadvisable. 

We joined the local AOL chat group and told them we were heading their way and asked if we could borrow space on their sofa for a night or two. We lucked out with some mostly sane people that let us stay at their place. One was a guy who was going through a divorce, but had never lived on his own before. His references checked out so his was a safe place for us. We had a fun vacation. 

After vacation was over, I kept in touch with this guy. He kept asking me to move to Portland and be his roommate. He suggested a complete change of scenery and job would be good for my healing process. So after three months of his convincing, I made the move to the Portland suburbs. 

As for my healing process… it took me a solid five years to even be able to say my sister's name without having a breakdown. They say time has a way of healing, and I eventually was able to work through my grief. 

So remember friends, when life just seems extremely unbearable, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Let's just hope it's not a freight train headed your direction. 

Until Next time…