"My sister has breast cancer and I am afraid she will die."
"My sister has breast cancer and I am afraid she will die."

Cancer. The diagnosis everyone fears. What if it affects someone close to you, like your own sister? Michaela Wein has put her experiences into deeply touching words that so many speak from the soul.


"One of the most popular online reports is about successes, beautiful life events and good things that happen. One doesn't like to talk about other things, but that would be at least as important …" With these words Michaela Wein shared a very personal text on Facebook Heart hits. And who is so close that we absolutely wanted to share her words with you here:

"First I put it into perspective. She said that there was a lump that was being examined. I was like," Okay, no problem ". It'll be fine. Then it was clear that it was malicious. And even then I did long did not understand what that means.

There are no words for what is going on within us. We talk to each other a lot. I speak to my sister almost every day. Mom is crying on the phone. But no matter how much we talk about it - we are alone with our fear. My sister most of all.

“You recognized it early on, that's a good thing! Then she has a great chance of recovery. "I get really aggressive when I hear that. I say it myself too. To calm myself down, to calm down those around me. But whenever someone says that to me, I want to hit that person in the face. Because it still sucks. You can't put that into perspective. It sucks. Period.

My sister is 13 years older than me. When I was a child, she sometimes said to me that she was allowed to do more than me because she was older than me. Then I said: You'll die earlier than me for that! I'm so sorry about that now. I didn't mean it that way.

Sometimes I think to myself that I'm a little slow. It takes me so long to grasp such news. I talked to my sister on the phone for a long time, was optimistic and, to be honest, I didn't quite understand the extent of it all. Then we hang up, I'll do something else - and an hour later we start crying out of nowhere. It doesn't stop at all.

She asks whether and how she should tell the children. I have no answer. I don't have an answer to anything at the moment. All I know is that I was her age when our father was sick. I haven't known what he's got for a long time. I suspected something was wrong. But I was a kid, I didn't think about it. Then the word "cancer" was mentioned for the first time in my presence and two days later he was dead. I would have liked to have known earlier. I wasn't prepared.

We believe that everything will be fine. I'm not sure if we really believe it or have to believe it.

We hide behind home remedies and good advice, WhatsApp messages and phone calls. We all love each other very much, but it's hard to show that. We all never learned to be intimate with one another. Every message that says how bad it is going is overwhelming for us. Mom is astonished when I tell her that I am having a hard time too. "Does that bother you too?" Yes, it does! Surprise.

I can't handle at all. With no one.

Then I think to myself in between: Come on, don't act like that. You are not the first to be affected by this. As if one were only allowed to have feelings that are based on the experiences of others.

When I went to the gynecologist that I had agreed to visit months ago, I did mention it and was examined a second time, just to be on the safe side. It's all right. But that doesn't make the feeling go away.

I threw away all deodorants and bought aluminum-free versions. For safety.

Stupid people who give advice. An acquaintance of my sister's, who has experienced something similar, makes her panic. “You can completely forget about the whole of next year! It's going to be bad!”My sister is too polite to tell her to be quiet. We worry too much about what others might think of us. They are just stupid and insensitive people who talk like that. What exactly is the purpose of panicking the other?

Vitamin D, lots of exercise, stomach protectors, wig, books, porridge, meditation, diary, papayas. A thousand pieces of advice.

Waiting for chemotherapy to start is cruel. So much uncertainty.

Next spring we're going to Berlin together to celebrate life. This is going to be great.

Continue to care for the children. Is that okay when the mother cares so much about herself? I do think it's okay. Nothing is more important than them right now.

I'm not there for Christmas because I wanted to get away, wanted to get out, wanted to lie on the beach at the other end of the world. I have a guilty conscience. I should be there

We try to stick together and take on tasks, but it's really difficult. I am overwhelmed. The only thing we're good at is providing food for our loved ones. And good advice.

Spontaneous outbursts of howling. Constant depression. You can blame it on the weather, as always, but maybe there is more to it. It feels weird all the time. The feeling sits right in the stomach, takes away the appetite and the air to breathe. It constricts.

"First my husband, now my child". My mother is crying on the phone. I can't tell you anything, mom. First my father, now my sister. We should just hold out a lot more than we already are.

The weeks go by, we get used to the situation. Chemotherapy cycles, heavy days, everyday life that creeps in. Apart from the wig, you don't notice much.

Everyone has so much need to talk and I keep getting quieter. So much information that I can't process.

Encouraging words that always sound the same. "Now you will have done it soon!", "Only two more chemo!", "Everything will be fine!". I feel like a tape. Totally useless.

Worries about chemo, worries about surgery, worries about radiation, worries about what's to come. That a person cannot help but let his life be dictated by such a tumor.

"I'm feeling bad today." - "Yes, I have the feeling that the weather is affecting everyone, me too."

Sometimes I am a sucker.

There is an appointment for the operation, the hotel in Berlin is booked and we are making plans for the summer.

My sister has breast cancer and I feel like that fact still hasn't got through to me."

This text originally appeared on michaelawein.net, whereupon the online communication consultant writes regularly about media, books and music. And also about things that sometimes just have to be out.

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