25. A Sister’s Lessons
R
Teach us to number our days aright,
that we may gain a heart of wisdom.
Psalm 90:12M
Ysister Alix died on a Tuesday with clear, iridescent tubes
in her arm dripping saline and morphine, neither of which
yielded any help. Her skin looked porcelain and strangely angelic.
Her bald head seemed as fragile and perfectly shaped as a bird’s egg.
I remember thinking when she lost her hair what an injustice it
was. On top of having to endure this killer disease, she also had to
watch her lovely, pale hair fall out.
Her daughter, Jeanne, had helped her buy a wig before the first
chemo treatment, but she hated those blonde curls. She nicknamed
them “Harpo” and retired them to her closet, where they sat like a
sad caricature of herself in happier days. Instead she chose to cover
her head with a variety of hats and scarves that she wore with a great
deal of panache.
I remember the day Mom first called to tell me about the diagno-
sis. She had trouble even saying the word cancer.It was almost im-