(PS: The ND Fighting Sue logo was done by my granddaughter Elle. They were planning a fundraiser Tee Shirt, but instead, the whole family wore their Tees at Easter time. That was my first venture out in the real world since radiation began.)
My father died in September 2022. I was relieved I didn’t have to share my news with him. It would have been too much for him to bear. And, my diagnosis was only the beginning of the bad news of 2023.
After my dad died, that left my twin brothers and a sister. One twin had recently married and moved to Wyoming. He didn’t say much, except, “I’m sorry, but you can do this.” Or something like that.
My youngest brother took the news much harder. While he took care of my parents in their dying days, I tried to be there for him as much as I could at the same time living 100 miles away and working full time. We spent a lot of time together foraging chokecherries and sharing mother’s recipes in between visits to the nursing home.
“You can’t die on me,” he said.
Our family, and extended family, were shrinking quickly as old age and failing health whisked the generation above us away — one life at a time.
“You can’t leave me alone.”
I didn’t plan this. Having given no thought to any disease, I can only imagine what my children thought about the diagnosis.
And, how do you tell your children?
My son and his wife brought their family to visit with a beautiful basket of goodies and a water bottle. We had no idea at the time that all my favorites like chips, licorice, nuts, and such would soon become too difficult to swallow.
The snacks were left by the wayside, but that water bottle became a lifesaver. I rarely go without it even these days.
I thought I was going to die before year’s end. I also felt like someone who was telling people about how to eat healthy, canning, baking, and gardening should not have cancer. How was I going to explain that? I stopped doing my weekly radio program. I resigned from all the boards I had been sitting on. The two people in my life who were driving me around, getting meds, and keeping me company were my daughter and husband.
Without my knowledge my daughter Claire had made arrangements with her family, her new husband, her new baby, and my first grandchild, Elle, to come up and stay with me. She brought the baby. It was so sad I did not have the strength to enjoy that little girl. We slept a lot together on the couch between episodes of Game of Thrones. The new baby and the old grandma napping every hour.
Claire would text me every morning when she was on her way from her sister-in-law’s house to pick us up. Strangely enough, they lived just a few miles north of our house. On chemo days Claire had to leave the baby with her mother-in-law in town because they would not allow her near the chemicals at the infusion center.
However, that newborn brought joy to everyone who saw her at the cancer center.
While going through these notes last week, I found a letter I wrote sometime during radiation therapy. I never sent it until now. Thank goodness, it required a little editing.
Dear Jason (and The Fabulous Miss Elle);
I’m sorry. I am so sorry that after a lifetime of planning and building a foundation when you, Jason, finally found your family, I split it up. I was meaning to write you a letter, but my hands shake now in a way they never have. Cancer has lit up every molecule in my whole body; a body that betrays me daily in new and fascinating ways.
Then there’s you. During the time Claire lived with Mike we did nothing together. I heard she spent some time leading people to believe I was an ogre of a mother because I was never around. Of course, if she needed something, then she called.
I wasn’t quite sure about you, Jason, either. There are some guidelines for divorce and remarriage — but I didn’t take anyone’s advice either, so how can I judge how you two got together?
My biggest concern was Elle. I watched you interact with her carefully. If things had been different, if you were someone who wasn’t so family-oriented, I would have done my level best to stop this from playing out.
But to my amazement, you are the person Claire said you were. In one short year or so, I have spent more time with my daughter than I did the prior 14 or 15 years she spent living in Bismarck.
My summer 2023 summer plans included many trips to Huron because I now had another grandchild. My father died and I had a new car. My days of working for the man were finished and I finally felt like I could live within my means and be unconcerned about my future.
But God has a way of turning things around. I bet He is in his throne room laughing at how I had everything planned, well not everything. I was pondering some things in my heart before the diagnosis.
Cancer. Without my knowledge, you, Claire, Elle, and your family made a decision that would split your new family apart. it breaks my heart on so many levels. You witnessed the birth of your new daughter and adopted her sister. Then, within a month or so you released your new bride and new daughter to my world for what must have seemed like an eternity.
None of this writing makes much sense at the moment because I am so overwhelmed with emotion. I can’t express what this means to me. It’s not just you, but everyone who has rallied to my aid like I was something important.
This letter is a thank you. A thank you and a debt I can never repay. Unless, of course, I decide to live to beat this fucking cancer and regain my footing in the world so I can be the best mother-in-law and grandmother on the planet. I am already the best mother (LOL). Look how my two children turned out.
Thank you, Jason, and thank you, Elle. Somehow, I have to believe that God is asking me to do something different with my life, however long, or short, it may be.
Sincerely yours, Sue
INDYchildrendotme 
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