It’s been a couple of weeks and I have had something I need to get off my chest. Whether or not this is the platform for such a story remains to be seen. I will write this and then skip on to the happier part of 2023. It’s a painful thing that has to do with cancer and other more important matters of the heart. My heart.
First, we (and by we, I mean Curt and me) have a sister. Yup, believe it or not. There were five Kaseman kids in Fredonia. We are dwindling in numbers much quicker than expected. I have now lost two brothers and potentially now, my only sister.
I hope this post won’t make people think I am an awful person for sharing this with you all, but it hurts. It hurts so much. Maybe you can relate. Sometimes things need to be dumped out of our hearts so we can make room for happier thoughts.
Cancer, death, death, cancer — that sums up the first half of the year. Curt sent me a text. I can’t remember whether or not it said, “Call me when you can or when you feel better.”
Or, did it say, “Chris has brain cancer.”
“What?”
Of course, I called immediately and we had a “how can this be happening to us” conversation. Now, you must first understand the rocky relationship we have with our sister. She married and moved away and pretty much forgot about us. Without going into detail, it broke my mother’s heart that she was not with us for holidays and special occasions.
At my mom’s funeral, she asked about the photograph of the ladies lined up in a row with fancy hats. The hats, of course, were my Grandmother Emma’s hats and the ladies were my aunts. So I named them off.
She looked at me and said, “Did you memorize that?”
I couldn’t even respond I was shocked. These women are my aunts and I could tell you something personal about every one of them. I could hardly believe it. She didn’t even know their names.
That was the end of our conversation that day. We did not see Chris until my dad’s funeral five years later.
Of course, we were concerned about the message from her husband, Dave, who from here on out will be referred to as “my rock,” or simply the “rock.” I will explain.
We commiserated this news. What are we going to do? Curt agreed to drive me to Wisconsin to see her. How can we get more info? Chris had two tumors in her brain, something called glioblastomas. How can we both get cancer within months of each other? The disease was growing in both our bodies at my dad’s funeral.
She was going to have surgery. To this day I do not know if they cut her head open, did gamma knife, or took them out through her nose. (Maybe that only happens in the movies). I Googled glioblastomas.
Glioblastoma is the most aggressive and most common type of cancer that originates in the brain and has a very poor prognosis for survival.[6][7][8] Initial signs and symptoms of glioblastoma are nonspecific.[1] They may include headaches, personality changes, nausea, and symptoms similar to those of a stroke.[1] Symptoms often worsen rapidly and may progress to unconsciousness.[2] (SOURCE: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Glioblastoma).
“What?”
The only way the Rock will talk to Curt is by email since he and our sister do not have cell phones. They share an email address. So… I Googled their home address and phone number and called.
“What hospital room is Chris in? Does she have a phone? Can I have the number I need to call her?”
“You can call this number but don’t call until after 10 a.m. because she can’t reach the phone and I’ll be there by then until about 2,” he said.
I fell for it. Had I been thinking at all, I would have known that the phone was next to the bed in most hospital rooms. My sister answered the phone, but the Rock was already there listening. She sounded great. But our conversation was cut short. I learned she was having surgery, and that’s it. Chris sounded nervous, and we ended the call with “I love you.”
I felt hopeful.
Some weeks later I emailed the Rock with questions, most were answered with yes and no. Finally, I wrote a note that said, “Why not just let Chris and I talk about our treatments directly? Just hand her the computer.”
My bad. Within three days I received an email supposedly from Chris about what a professional she was and how Dave was her rock and why would she want all that negatively from me in her wonderful life. If I wanted something the Rock could speak for her. I couldn’t print her actual response because it was harsh, to say the least. I’m not sure why I saved it.
Me. I was heartbroken. Simply devastated. How could this be? We are both dying from an unexpected disease. Why can’t we make peace finally?
So to this day, we wait to hear from the Rock. We are waiting for any news. Is our sister feeling well? What type of treatment is she on? What was the surgery? Why do I feel so helpless?
Curt and I talk about her every time we speak and have no control over what happens next. We are anticipating not being told when there could be a funeral. And, she did say she didn’t care about my cancer. But, still, I care about her.
In my efforts to clean out the stuff I collected over the years I found a neatly tied bundle of handwritten letters from my sister. I’m going to mail them to her in hopes she finds it in her heart to forgive me for all the years I couldn’t speak to her because she really couldn’t speak to me. there’s so much more to this story I hold in my heart. Some of it needed to come out this morning. I regret not being there for her sooner.
INDYchildrendotme 
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