Hanging with Liz

Cancer /ˈkænsə(r)/; noun- a word no family wants to hear.

By mid-January, our family developed a new fear: clumps of cells.

Clumps of cells present on endoscopies and CTs; clumps that had already invaded the nearest lymphnode.

Scan after scan, our worst fears materialized. Elizabeth had officially been diagnosed with a Stage III High Grade Neuroendocrine Carcinoma.

Two days before my sister’s 30th birthday, our family gathered in support as my sister offered her hair as a sacrifice prior to beginning chemotherapy and radiation. Her husband’s hands shaking unsteadily as his eyes welled with tears. Piece my piece my sister’s brunette hair fell to the floor where I was seated at her feet; our mother holding her at one side; her best friend of nearly 18 years at the other, as we all silently wept.

”Let’s do the damn thing.” Her husband wiped the tears from his eyes and embraced his wife’s beauty peering at her through lenses of ‘in sickness and in health.’

I am still uncertain of whether my nephew’s eyes had welled more with sadness or with fear; how does one explain to a 5-year-old that his mother will begin an arduous battle for her life?

While fearing clumps of cells has taken over my family’s lives, the financial implications for my sister, her husband, and my nephew are becoming astronomical. Between treatments, doctor’s visits, and unpaid time off of work, the capitalistic part of cancer has begun to take its toll.

I’m asking for your help in easing the financial burden and alleviating some of the stress, so my sister can focus on what’s important- fighting. Please consider donating whatever you can to help during the hardest season of our lives.

From the bottom our our hearts,

Thank you.