After 11 Years With Cancer, What Is Enough Time?

Since my sister’s death nearly five months ago, a lot of advice and remarks have been shared by others. Many have noted that "she got more time than we ever thought she would" and "she was on borrowed time for so long." And while I do think these words may be intended to bring solace or fill the silence, for me, they have not been as helpful as I believe the people offering these anecdotes intend. While there is factual truth to both statements, as my sister was diagnosed terminal nearly 11 years before her death, that does not make the loss any less.

I believe time to be a gift, and as such, my sister was gifted more than a decade despite a terminal illness, and I do have gratitude for that. Having said that, my sister was 38 when she died, so noting the time she lived with cancer does not negate the loss of a life at such a young age. So, when somebody says something regarding the time she was gifted post-diagnosis, I have been tempted to ask them: Do you think 11 years was enough?

I do not mean this in the sense of quality over quantity, or in any of the hallmark ways I practiced as a provider, nor regarding the lessons I was given by her palliative and hospice team, or the plethora of hospital professionals who treated her. I mean, my sister was just 38. When someone of the age of 38 dies without a cancer diagnosis, people tend to speak of the death as being untimely. Gone before they had a chance to live life fully. Words are shared regarding missed opportunities and the life they had yet to live. So then does that change because my sister did have cancer? Why does cancer mean that 38, or contextually, the 11 years that she lived with the terminal diagnoses, mean that that was enough time?

Before my sister passed, I was writing another article. One discussing how much time, or rather, what amount of time would be enough. Would there ever be enough time granted to her? What would be a metric to show that, despite a terminal diagnosis, my sister was given “adequate time”?

I can say with certainty that due to her condition and the progression of her disease, my sister was ready. But she wasn't ready because she wanted to die at 38. She wasn't prepared because she elected to die. Or because she felt like she had fulfilled everything she wanted to do in this life. No, cancer forced her to be ready. This disease ravaged her, it dictated her life, it determined so much for her. And in the end, it determined her death.

My sister did not choose to die any more than she chose to be diagnosed with cancer. She was made to be ready and conditioned by cancer. It's not that she got to swim in the ocean and visit the Great Barrier Reef in Australia. That she got to see the beach one last time and feel the sun on her skin and the sand beneath her toes. She didn't get to return to Chicago, the city that has held so much meaning for my family. She was never able to visit the pyramids in Egypt, which she so badly wanted to see, their peaks rising before a sunrise. She never visited Hawaii to hula dance at a luau, as we always talked about after seeing "Lilo and Stitch" as kids.

These are just a small fraction of all the things that my sister did not get to do because of cancer. Knowing that, for all the people who have told me she got so much extra time, I ask you again: did she get enough time?

This piece reflects the author’s personal experience and perspective. For medical advice, please consult your health care provider.

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