As I sat looking down at my toes dangling from the dock into the stillness of the water, I remember hearing my sister's contagious laughter coming from the house, and a sense of bliss coming within me. Summer was almost over and one last trip to the lake house seemed like the thing to do after receiving the type of news we had. Emma, my sister, had been diagnosed with cancer and I had decided to start documenting our day to day as a way to mark progression. The road ahead of us seemed brutal, and for lack of a better word- hopeless. Although the doctors kept telling us to have high hopes, it was all inevitably a race of time. A race of time as we all had to sit and watch the progression of her struggles with the symptoms. A race of time as I try to make each and every second count with my best friend before it was too late, and time runs out.

About two months ago while on our family vacation in Mexico we noticed tiny red spots covering Emma’s chest. Thinking it was nothing more than a reaction to the sun, we disregarded it until a few days after coming home they had not gone away and the nosebleeds had started. After many doctors appointments and lab work, the jury was out. Emma had Acute myeloid leukemia.

My sister and I are two years apart and the age gap has always felt illusory, until now. I was nineteen and entering my sophomore year in college, while Emma was seventeen and entering her senior year in high school. Selfishly, I thought about how hard it was to leave her the first time, but now how on earth would I be able to leave her now when she needed me the most. I had offered to take at least a semester off of school to stay at home and help out. However, my parents thought me staying at home will only make it harder on everyone in the long run. Even Though I could see where they're coming from, it didn’t make any of this easier.

Doctor’s kept advising us to be prepared for the worse, but to also be hopeful for remission. All I could think about are the movies and how the poor cancer patient never makes it to the end. Emma thought about this all the time too. My optimistic self had slowly turned into this negative beast, but for Emma’s sake I remained as hopeful as ever. She needed strength right now more than I deserved to sit around and feel pity for myself. I made a promise to myself that the next 30 days I had with her before I left, would be spent trying to make every second count.
The first round of chemotherapy was the worst. No one really knew how she would feel, how she would react, and how we should support her. I had brought along many movies in hopes of some comic relief to get her mind off of what was going on. Towards the middle of the treatment Emma started to cry saying she didn’t understand how this had happened to her. That was only the beginning of what was to become that day. She had finally calmed down after the doctor’s and nurses came in numerous times to reassure her that this round of chemo could potentially be the last. Everything was going smoothly until we got home, and she immediately began throwing up. I had never seen her, let alone anyone, get so upset and get so sick. She had so little of anything in her system to begin with that she came to point of dry heaving and throwing up blood. Days later, was when my mom first noticed the rashes covering Emma’s body. She was too out of it to even notice the hives taking over her arms.
She and I started so many shows on Netflix since the beginning of the summer that we had lost track on what we had seen and what we hadn’t. One day she told me she wanted to get out and see something more than the walls of our house. From then on, for the next few weeks, we would go on a drive around town and blast the music to our favorite songs. This was when life felt as if nothing had changed and I had my healthy normal sister sitting next me. She was always her happiest when we would go on our late night car rides. Until one night I looked over to her to see if she was picking a song and I noticed her crying. The second I asked her what was wrong my heart dropped, she was holding a chunk of her golden blonde hair staring at it, heart sick.

A week went by, and more and more hair began to fall out that she came to the point of deciding just to shave her head. My mom and I started buying caps for to wear and I even bought a few wigs. Knowing that I had to leave in a matter of a few short weeks I wanted to make sure she would be okay when I was gone. Emma longed to go to school and start her senior year with her friends. I understood her wanting to feel apart of it all, but I couldn’t help but to fear how her school mates would respond. She was a different girl. I wasn’t sure how anyone at school would react to her newfound appearance and her constant need to check in with the school nurse. I felt this protective barrier go up and finally convinced her to at least wait until her next doctor's appointment to decide anything about school.

Her doctor announced that the previous chemo had gone successful and while it wasn’t going to be the last round, they really thought this next treatment would be the last. I began to question if what anyone was telling me about all of this was true or if it was all just for my personal satisfaction. It was no secret that I didn’t want to leave Emma behind, but staying home would only make leaving her in the future impossible. However, the day had come and I had to say goodbye.

I was able to stay with her through her second and final round of chemotherapy. After leaving I stayed buried into my studies, trying to stay as distracted as possible. Emma and I would FaceTime at least twice a day, she even called to make me sit there while she passed her kidney stones due to the uric acid build up. We had began to treat all of this as if it were some big joke and how everything that happened to her was just hilarious. Until one day when I never received her daily call and I knew something just was not right. Immediately, I called my dad knowing he would be able to give me the most honest answer. Emma had developed an infection as a result of her lack of white blood cells and while there were antibiotics to treat it, her body was just so incredibly weak. My parents urged me to finish my mid terms before worrying to come home, but I just couldn't do it. I had to get home and see her. The smile on the face when she saw me walk into the hospital room made missing my exams all worth it. Her doctor’s claimed that while I was around she always seemed to be doing better. However for me, when she was around I seemed to be doing better.

From then on that’s something I always have remembered, when I was with her I was always my best and now she is always with me.