“Hey, Sis!”

How My Sister’s Cancer Changed my Life

Cindy’s Story

It’s a Tuesday afternoon on a beautiful spring day and I am standing in front of the mirror in my shop. There is a cancer patient in front of me that I am fitting for a wig, and her sister is sitting to the right of us watching the process. The woman looks at her sister and they both start to giggle. She tells me she always wanted long blonde hair like her sister, but she laughs and says that she does not think it suits her. Her sister then laughs and agrees. My phone rings and the screen shows my own sister, with her long blonde hair. I excuse myself for a moment, leaving the sisters to laugh and think about what new look she will choose, and I answer the call the same way I do every time…with a silent prayer of thanks that my sister is still here for me to giggle with.

Hearing that, “Hey, Sis!” is one of the greatest joys I have. 

Growing up, my sister and I were six years apart. She was born two days before my sixth birthday, so to say our relationship started out somewhat rocky might just be an understatement. However, it didn’t take me long to get over having my birthday party ruined, because I, in fact, was given the best present of them all: my own real-life dress-up doll! Through the years, as all sisters do, there were moments where we were the best of friends and the worst of enemies. There are many shared memories, some sad, some happy. There are the moments of sheer joy, such as seeing my sister meet my daughter for the very first time. There are the moments of utter heartbreak, like when we got the calls that it was time to come to the hospital and say goodbye to our parents. But through the years, the good and the bad, the hard times and the easy ones, we stuck beside each other. Therefore, when I got the call with the familiar, “Hey, Sis!” in October of 2016, I knew this would not be any different. My heart broke at the words “Breast Cancer”, but I knew if ANYONE had a certain chance to overcome this, it would be Suzanne. The larger than life, always laughing, turn the situation around with humor, beautiful baby sister that I have always loved. 

We prepared for a lumpectomy, only to be told at the last minute that a mastectomy was her best chance for survival. With the grace and confidence that could only come from our Lord and Savior, my sweet sister went into surgery. The next few weeks and months were a blur. I spent them helping her with baths, checking drains, chauffeuring back and forth to Atlanta for appointments, and trying to stay positive all the while my heart was breaking. Constant prayers were said for healing.

The physical wounds healed as the doctors said they would, leaving behind scars that slowly faded. But it was the emotional scars that took longer to heal. 

Over the next year there were more scars. More surgeries. More prayers. I look back on this time and I know just how close I was to losing my best friend, my baby sister. And I am thankful that I still have her when so many others don’t. I am thankful that she has been cancer-free for the last five years. I am thankful that I get to watch her thrive as a survivor. I am thankful that she can still teach, which is her passion. I am thankful that her cancer sent me in a new direction with my life and brought me to a place of faith that I had never known before. Faith which led me to fulfill a lifelong dream. A dream where I get to make a difference daily in peoples lives. A legacy that I can leave with my children and my grandchildren. A dream that led me to new way of life. A dream which slowly became “The Wig Chix”. 

In this new life, I get to minister to women in different stages of their illnesses. From the young mothers who are newly diagnosed and scared that they may not see their babies grow up. To the young child facing an uncertain future and challenges that NO little girl should face. From the woman whose husband holds her as she questions the next steps. To the woman who approaches the future in confidence, knowing that God’s plan is often different than our own and she is ready to accept what may come. From the woman who is weak after her first chemo treatment. To the woman who has tried every treatment and yet the cancer returned and is incurable. I get to hold their hands, and sometimes I just get to hold them. I place a wig on their head, but more importantly, I get to place a prayer for their hearts. For their healing, whether it be physically healed or spiritually. Sometimes I share an anecdote or a word of encouragement, while other times I am silent. Listening to their stories. Their words. Their fears. 

Often our shop is filled with tears. The women leave after making their selections and my business partner and I will share a hug and yet another prayer for them.

But just as often as you see the tears from sadness and fear, you will see tears from laughter.

Laughter from a sister who is thankful for every second, every minute, every day that she still has. Laughter as my phone rings and that all too familiar “Hey, Sis!” starts a conversation that no doubt will end with me looking at the sky and thanking God that I have another day with my sister.