Purple

I think I'll hate purple for the rest of my life. Carrie had her first radiation yesterday. She is very incoherent and confused. She didn't recognize me after the radiation. She didn't recognize anyone. She asked our dad "where are my relatives?" Heartbreak.

She keeps complaining that everything looked purple. Just now she asked me to remember to ask her oncologist why everything looked purple. I'm pretty sure everything looked purple because they radiated her entire brain, including the backs of her optic nerves. When I think of the drugs they are pumping her full of, the toxic radiation and chemotherapy soon to follow--I want to punch a hole in the wall. No matter how long I live, I will never get over the grim look of sorrow on her face after the oncologist explained that this is a terminal diagnosis. There is no way to ever explain the pain in my soul to see my sister hear those words.

Carrie is completely doped up. Part of her incoherence is the drugs, part of it is the cancer in her brain fluid. Why is this happening to her? Why can't I wake up from this nightmare? Carrie is my best friend. My only friend.