Only God Knows Our Time

One September day in 2010, the UCLA doctors told me the cancer was aggressive and just spreading fast. It seemed hopeless. I had a rough morning before that final appointment, and the news just heaped more fear onto what I went through that morning. I was told that unless I did the recommended chemotherapy treatments, I would just be putting my life more at risk when I only had months to a year left to live. I was dealing with the metastatic disease spreading more to my bones, all lobes of my lungs, lymph nodes, and soft tissue. I had a staph infection in my lungs and was on IV antibiotics. I wore a fanny pack that had a 3-day supply of antibiotics. How could I do chemotherapy?

When I got home from my appointment with the disappointing news, my twin sister called to see how I was doing. When she asked, I said, “I’m fine!”
She said, “Really?”
I said I was going to die anyway, so what difference did it make on what I did? I was going through the anger stage of cancer grief.
She asked me if I wanted to go to the beach.
I said, “No, I can’t because I have burns on my chest from where the failed radiation left my chest blistered.”
She came over anyway, picked me up, and drove me to the beach. She saved me that day. I was crying and so scared of dying. She was smart and played all the old 80s tunes from our high school days.

She started singing to me as we went through Kanan Dune Road, which leads to Malibu Beach. Looking back, I don’t know how she did it. I would be devastated if I heard the same news about her. She’s a tough girl on the outside, but I know she was breaking on the inside.

On our drive to the beach, I’d start panicking and thinking about time. I was powerless over my life, and this terrified me. I cried with my head in my hands and told her, “Sis, it’s not like people say about dying. They say you will be ready and accept it when it's your time, but I am terrified, sis! I am not ready to die!” I cried, and then she instructed her Tennessee lawyer friend in the back seat to give me the “purple stuff.” Well, the purple stuff tasted like grapes and had vodka or some other kind of alcohol in it.
I appreciate my twin sister so much for being able to take us back to our youth.

I am thankful for her courage to push through when I resisted. Love is like that sometimes. We don’t give in when a loved one pushes us out. You may have to walk through a fiery storm of emotion to get to the one you love and pull them out of the dark hole they have fallen into. You do it sometimes; that’s love. Thank you, sweet sister, for your brave heart and determination.
By the time we got to the beach, I had cheered up a bit because she got me to sing songs with her (I even hung my head out the window as I sang Don Henley’s “Boys of Summer")! I have gratitude for music and its ability to take you back to the happiest years of your life. I wish I could hug them and tell them how it cheered me up that day.

We had a great day at the beach, but it felt like my final trip there. Every moment was my last, and every cliff, tree, and bird felt like they were getting a final goodbye. My niece Madison, my sister’s daughter, was happy to be playing by the sea with her colorful shovel and bucket. She was so innocent and unaware of what I was going through, and I looked at her, knowing she had such a hopeful future.

My niece Madison had this rare beauty and wisdom that made you forget how young she was. Her words of encouragement never failed to uplift my spirits. To this day, I am astounded by her innate ability to perceive things beyond the ordinary. Madison, I express my heartfelt gratitude for your precious gift of grounding me in the present whenever my anxieties lead me to overanalyze the future.

If only I had known about alternative cancer treatments back then, I would've walked out of that doctor's appointment, knowing they were wrong and that there were healthier options available. Fear would've turned into excitement, and we would've built the grandest sandcastle that day!

Later on the beach, as the sun started to set, I went for a walk. Maybe the alcohol had worn off, but emotionally, I felt like I was about to lose it. I just needed to come to terms with death, and that required a private chat with God. I walked under the dock to the other side of Paradise Cove in Malibu, laid down on the sand, and gazed up at the sky. It felt like the sky was a part of me more than any other moment. It felt like it was getting closer to me, and I was becoming one with the sky. I had NEVER felt that way before. There I was, lying alone, just me, God, and all the angels in the sand. I had no towel or blanket, just the clothes I wore—a long, green maxi skirt and a long-sleeved, white shirt to protect my radiation-burned skin from the sun.

To read more about my story, you can purchase the book Grateful Heart Has it all it is available on Amazon. If you are struggling financially write me and I will send you a copy as a gift.