Watermelon thoughts of Claire

I’m not the best blogger.  I’m not the best at a lot of things, I guess.  Life kind of gets in the way. And then, something just happens to you...just out of the blue.  Like today.  I was cooking. It was nothing fancy...steak, potatoes with butter and parsley and salad.  I pulled pot holders down from the shelf to check the oven. They are crocheted and shaped like watermelon slices with seeds and all.  My sister made them for me...my baby sister.  I stared at those pot holders and lots of those “back-in-the-day” images flooded me.  You know the ones.  We all have them at some time or another.   My Mom is and was a beauty and my sister Claire is the spitting image of her. My baby sister is Claire...the little one, the pretty one, the popular one, the smart one, the driven one...and now, the sick one.  You see, my sister has Multiple Sclerosis...the primary-progressive kind.  That means there is no remission, no relief, no improvement.  My sister knew what she wanted to be almost from birth.  That would be a nurse.  She got one of those nurse outfits for her 4th  birthday and it hung in a place of honor in her closet for years.  I mean years...well into her 20s.  She even had the bag with the pretend syringe and candy pills.  When my brother got the measles and the family was supposed to go berry picking, she volunteered to stay home and take care of him.  She was only five and she sacrificed strawberry picking or rather eating in her case.  When I broke my arm, my mom made me suffer the indignity of having my little sis spoon feed me vegetable soup so she could be nurturing.  And that same mom of mine volunteered me as a guinea pig when my sister needed to practice administering shots when she was doing her clinical training...ouch.  I endured the hot sun at her college graduation.  When my Mom collapsed at home, in the middle of the night, you can’t even imagine how grateful I was that my sister, the nurse, was at home and knew what to do.  And we held hands at the funeral.  And, yes, she became a nurse and what a nurse she was!  She went on to earn her Master’s degree and almost achieved her PHD before the MS robbed her of her plans.  She worked at a hospital and even taught nursing to others. Even now, when she is not so clear in her thoughts, she still can give everyone smart advice about medical things.   Images of her cuteness and her smiling face keep floating in my brain.  I can see her in the Halloween costumes that my Mom always hand made and in her high school cheerleading uniform.  She played the saxophone and was Salutatorian of her high school class.   I can see her in her cap, gown and hood with her gorgeous smile.  But, I also see how she has deteriorated...how small and fragile she is.  Even though she repeats herself during conversation and she isn’t always coherent, she always remembers everyone’s birthday and calls to say “have a happy day”.  Her favorite color is pink and each time we talk, she tells me she needs an address book, some slippers (pink of course) and a wind up alarm clock.  Well, once again, I find myself talking to God .  I mean, I have two sisters and go figure, they both have MS.  How does that happen in one life?  And, why?  My other sister, Colette, has the relapsing/remitting kind of MS so she is not in the same shape as Claire.  Claire is in the hospital now.  She is probably headed for a nursing home because the medical folks keep throwing the words “constant care” around.   Claire is not that old.  As a matter of fact, the problem that presents is that many nursing homes will not take her because she is “too young”.   But, I don’t want to think about that.  I prefer the yesterday  images floating in my brain.  Something I saw prompted me to seek out Isaiah 40:29-31..”.He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.  Even youths grow tired and weary; and your men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.  They will  soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not faint. “  I am praying and hoping that Claire dreams about the same images that float in my brain.  I love you Claire and I know that you are soaring with the eagles...and I am praying for miracles.

Blessings,

Cherene