I’ve heard the word’s “It’s cancer” too many times in my life. About acquaintances, friends, and family. Sadly, I know that’s true about the majority of the people in our society today. It always makes me a little emotional, no matter who it’s affecting, however, with each pronouncement, my heart grows a little more calloused to the news.
This is, until it was Johnna.
I’ve done research. I’ve looked in just about every venue I can think of: anthologies, self-help fiction, non-fiction, newspapers, magazines, google and yahoo. You name it, I’ve probably looked there. But no matter where you look there’s precious little out there to tell you where to turn for help, how to cope when it’s your identical twin, the other half of your heart, the better half of your soul who’s got the diagnosis. There’s nothing to tell you how to breathe again when it’s your twin lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to machines and struggling to keep her eyes open while the nurse, dressed in head to toe brown protective gear so as to not burn her skin off, proceeds to put the very thing she’s trying to protect herself from into your sister. I only half hear doctors as they talk to her about the next stage in “the plan” as if cancer is a house being built or a company being planned, rather than an uninvited home invader or corporate shark. There’s nothing out there to help you focus your anger towards the disease rather than the doctors, the insurance companies, the rest of your family, or God-forbid, God.
How can there be so much out there to help people cope with cancer in a parent. Or in a child. Or in a friend. Even in a co-worker? But there’s no one willing to tackle the complexities of dealing with the potential loss of someone who used to be one embryo with you? Someone with whom you’ve shared your entire life, from womb forward? You can help soul-mates, classmates, workmates, teammates, roommates, and a plethora of other “mates”, but no one wants to expound on helping womb-mates?
Why is that?
