It’s all about perspective, isn’t it? Time and changing circumstances have a way of making yesterday’s stresses seem like a breeze compared to today’s challenges. A few months ago I wrote about my brother’s upcoming wedding, and how there was a touch of drama between the two of us because he wanted to get married in early May, a time when it would be effectively impossible for me to attend. Well, my fears were allayed relatively soon after that when the bride and groom-to-be discovered that the only date in the early summer that their small church was already booked happened to be their dream early-May wedding date. Confession: I definitely felt like this was the Lord coming down on my side of things, for the record! Since the rest of May and early June didn’t work due to a variety of other conflicts, they had no choice but to schedule the wedding for June 29th, which, while not 100% ideal for us, was a date my husband and I could work with. We booked our flights. We’d be sitting in the front row to watch my brother become a married man. All was well.
All was well, until about three weeks before the wedding, when my brother’s fiance–I’ll call her Claire–went to the ER one night with chest pain. She thought it was nothing, but since it had been bugging her for a while, my brother insisted. It turns out it wasn’t nothing, but rather something quite ominous. She had a large mass in her chest, and the doctors told her it was most likely cancer.
This bombshell took everyone by surprise, of course, and it set off a chain of tests and procedures and appointments that filled the next few weeks with extreme stress and uncertainty…not the way you expect the wind-up to your wedding day to be! It seemed like every day brought new information but even more questions. I couldn’t get ahold of my brother (understandably) so I got my updates through my mom and occasionally from messaging with Claire. For the first few days before we knew the results of the biopsy, I remained somewhat optimistic. I couldn’t help but be reminded of the scare Peony went through back in college. The bones of the store were similar: a large, sinister-looking mass in the chest, followed by fears and tears, followed by a biopsy. In Peony’s case the tumor was benign, thank God, and I held out hope that the outcome would be the same for Claire. But I knew the situation was Bad with a capital B when my mom reported that my brother had broken down in tears when she first saw him in the hospital, saying that he just didn’t want her to die…anything but that. Clearly, he for one was not optimistic, and Claire’s doctors weren’t either.
The diagnosis was cancer, of course. T-cell lymphoma, and a rare type at that, one that was relatively difficult to research online, and what we were finding wasn’t encouraging. My brother, perhaps due in part to the pessimistic nature that runs through our family, opined to my mom (and I hope, not in front of Claire!) that she probably had six months to live. One doctor told them to cancel the wedding–she’d need to start chemo immediately. The next doctor told them, thankfully, to enjoy their wedding to the fullest, take a shortened honeymoon, and THEN they’d face it head-on. I followed the unfolding drama from 7,000 miles away, feeling hand-tied and helpless to contribute anything other than prayers.
As I packed my bags and prepared to fly around the world for the big day, I was continually struck by how different this event now felt in light of everything. There’s always stress involved with planning a wedding, but a missing bridesmaid’s dress or a flaky groomsman is small potatoes compared to a bride who might not live to see their first anniversary. The issues Claire and my brother had faced a few months back–settling on a wedding date that suited everyone, justifying her decision to walk herself down the aisle to more traditional family members, keeping her divorced parents away from each other, and pulling off a wedding on a very small budget–simply paled in comparison to the looming monster of cancer. Claire started a blog to process things and keep everyone informed, and she herself seems to have handled everything pretty well thus far, but despite her faith and the rest of the family’s efforts to put on a good face, I was just truly, deeply saddened by the timing of it all. Honestly, tell me, what could be more unfair than being diagnosed with cancer right before your wedding?
Instead of reveling in the preparation for a once-in-a-lifetime ceremony and relishing the anticipation of a blissful honeymoon, they were faced with the impending battle for Claire’s life. Instead of setting up their first apartment together, opening their gifts, and enjoying the crazy-stupid-happiness of the honeymoon period in their marriage, they knew they would be faced with chemotherapy, awful side effects, medical expenses they can’t afford, and 2-3 years of near-constant treatment. And that is the best-case scenario.
I grieve for the fact that these two love birds will never have a period of their married life in which they feel young and invincible. They will never be under the illusion that their life is perfect and will always be that way. I wish desperately that they’d eloped in March like Claire originally wanted, or that the inconvenient May date had worked out. At least then they would have had a few weeks of sweet, normal life together before the hammer fell.
Despite the horrible spectre of cancer, in the end at least they got to have their perfect wedding day before starting chemo. The weather was a dream, the bride was healthy and glowing, and my brother was as happy as I have ever seen him. They both held it together and smiled true, ecstatic smiles as she walked down the aisle. Meanwhile, I wiped away tears and recited my social security number in my head to keep from fully losing it. I have a lot more I could say about my fears for their future, for what might happen to my brother if the worst happens to Claire, but today is a joyful day, because we just got the news that the first round of chemo was successful. Claire is cancer-free! The bad news is that this type of aggressive cancer very often returns, and when it does, it’s much more difficult to treat. So, her treatment continues without a break, most likely with even more side effects. Still, this was as positive news as we could have hoped for at this stage in the game. The newlyweds have renewed hope, so I will follow suit and focus on this first victory, rather than worrying about what-ifs.
Cancer sucks. This sucks for Claire, my brother, and my whole family. But I take comfort in knowing whatever comes, they are facing it together. Instead of dwelling on the perilous prospects that might happen in the future, I will remember what has already happened: they fell in love, they made their vows in front of God and man.
For better or worse.
In sickness and in health.
For as long as they both shall live.
Please, God, let that being a long, long time.
I avoided reading this for the last few days since I knew I’d cry. I feel all the things you’ve said. All we can do is help each other enjoy whatever moments we can.