Real Talk Vol. 9: This Is Mainly For The Females...but Everyone Should Read This

This, I feel is very important for yall to check out! My aunt Kendall wrote this...and I asked her permission to share this on my blog, which she agreed to. This really goes for everybody...as far as overall health is concerned...however...this is REALLY tailored towards females. Please read.

Before I post this...I just want yall to know that this is actually something VERY close to my heart. I can't even put it in words. I'm actually tearing up right now as I'm posting this. You'll see why as you read. If you don't take anything I've said on this blog seriously...I ask that you please take this seriously.

Ok, everyone. I usually don't blog, but after watching the aforementioned segment *Black in America pt. 2*, I feel compelled to share my experiences and urge women that I know to educate themselves more on this issue. As young women, I do not believe we fully understand the importance of our health and maintaining it as a priority. Although I am aware that Breast Cancer runs rampant in the black community, I tend to push it aside to deal with more immediate issues in my life. February, 2008, I received a phone call from my sister, Sonja, with whom I had recently become close after the birth of my daughter in 2000. I sensed something was wrong, but I was eager to hear from her. She then proceeded to tell me that she had terminal cancer, and had been in the hospital for more than two weeks, and she had just mustered the courage to call and tell me. I was shocked at the scream that came from within me; I did not know that I had the capacity for it to be so powerful.

The following day, two of my brothers and I traveled to Hanford, which is approximately 3 hours north of Los Angeles. I had to see firsthand what was going on, and to get a visual of this horrible reality. Upon walking into her hospital room, I saw what I thought was a woman who was at least 7 months pregnant, with extremely edematous lower extremities—until my sister turned toward us and spoke. We later found out that the cancer, which originated in her right breast, had rapidly spread to her bones, lungs, liver and abdomen. The doctor informed me that even with aggressive chemotherapy, which she declined, she would survive another three months, at best. My sister was in pain so intolerable, it hurt when she exhaled, and was even worse when she spoke.

Monday, February 4, 2008, after visitors had gone for the evening, I put a warm blanket over my sister, turned her television on, and moved the recliner that the hospital provided for me closer to her bed. She laughed while I cracked jokes; it was my way of trying to soften the blow of what was told to us earlier in the day, and to ease her into accepting the inevitable in such a short time. She wrote on a piece of paper that she was scared, that the outcome was unfair, and she needed to be here for her children. I assured her that if she were to pass, I would become responsible for her 26 year-old developmentally disabled daughter and her then 17 year-old son. She turned and smiled at me, and I told her never realized how much she looked like our mother until now. She politely flipped me “the bird” and settled back in her bed, attempting to get some sleep for the night. I grabbed my sister’s hand, told her I loved her, and we both went to sleep- still holding hands.

Earlier that night, Sonja kept removing her oxygen mask to talk, and I would run over to her and put it back on her face and told her to shut her mouth and to write whatever she needed to tell me. I was awakened by the rush of nurses into the room, who informed me that her heart rate was dropping rapidly, and they needed to perform CPR. Before I was escorted out of the room, I touched her hand and it was ice cold. Any glimmer of hope I had of them saving her was now gone. I sat in the waiting room down the hall. Fifteen minutes later, at 1:01am, the nurse entered the waiting room and told me she was sorry, and their attempts to resuscitate her had failed. I visited my sister shortly thereafter, and was surprised at the courage I had to enter the room, knowing that the person that I adored all of my life, had given up fighting her battle with cancer, at the age of 48.

My niece told me several days later that Sonja had noticed a lump in her breast several months before, and had gone to get a biopsy, but never returned to the physician for the results.

I apologize if this note is lengthy, but I cannot begin to express the importance of us as women to have regularly scheduled mammograms. The earlier cancer is caught, the better the odds of survival. I encourage everyone, male and female, to urge your mothers, wives, sisters, aunts…..WHOMEVER….to schedule an appointment. The pain and inconvenience one may experience during a mammogram/biospy is incomparable to the pain of cancer ravaging your body.

Needless to say, I’m quitting smoking. It is gonna be a hard road, but I want to be here for me….. and everyone else.