My sister, my friend

Angie and I grew up in the country, with a creek in our backyard and acres of land to roam. We swam for hours in the creek, climbed the trees in the orchard next door and rode our bikes for hours down the dead-end gravel road. What our "neighbourhood" didn't have were lots of other kids. So I played with Angie - or no one.

Over the years, we went our separate ways, attending different universities, living in different cities, carving out our own niches in life. Despite distance, husbands, kids (we have five between the two of us) and careers, we've always kept in touch. Or in touch as our busy lives allowed.

When the doctor phoned with the cancer diagnosis, I told Angie second (after Michael). And like the amazing sister she is, she's stepped up to the plate to battle by my side. Despite living 1-1/2 hours away, she's come to emergency, my first oncologist appointment, my chemo treatment and just to visit (and paint my toes). She brushes aside my pronouncements she doesn't have to be present for everything or make the trip to London as often. She rolls her eyes and tells me she'll see me again soon.

She's a steady rock in this storm - I think for both me and Michael. She has the medical knowledge to help calm my fears, she's my notetaker and extra set of ears during appointments, she asks the questions that flit out of my head when I'm talking to the health care professionals.

Through this terrible ordeal, I know I'm going to gain an even deeper relationship with Angie. She's not only my sister, she's one of my best friends.

I'm a lucky woman.
Tina