Six weeks ago, my sister almost died. 

They are seven of the most awful and terrifying words I’ve ever typed and my heart breaks and mind wobbles just looking back at them. 

Almost died. 

She contracted bacterial meningitis, and if not for everything happening in the way and in the timeframe it needed to, I fear that the word ‘almost’ would be missing from the first sentence of this post. 

Let me tell you about my sister. She is incredible. She is smart, funny, savvy and sassy. She scares me which is bizarre because I am the older of the two of us, she is five foot (and half an inch) and is, in my mind, still fifteen years old. But the reality is that she has a ferocious presence. She is a force in meeting rooms. And in family discussions in living rooms. I’ve watched her take down real estate agents and beat them at their own game at auctions. I’ve seen her negotiate, walking away when every one of her demands has not been met, only to have whoever she was negotiating with chase her down the street, not only giving in, but throwing in a proverbial set or steak knives for her troubles. Shakespeare may have written the words ‘Though she be but little, she is fierce’ hundreds of years before my sister was alive, but those words were written in preparation for her. 

So to suddenly see her helpless, scared and incredibly vulnerable and horrifically sick was a shock. 

My sister has never been really unwell before. She doesn’t have the firsthand knowledge of navigating the health system the way I do. She doesn’t ‘speak medical’. She hates hospitals, and other than a quick stay for a tonsillectomy when she was 5, has never spent the night in one. And so, knowing that she was being taken away in an ambulance with so much uncertainty, and not being allowed to have anyone with her, was horrid. I knew she’d be terrified. COVID restrictions meant that there were no visitors in A&E, but then, when she was moved onto a ward she was put in isolation because, in addition to bacterial meningitis, she also had an unknown infection. She spent four days without anyone able to console her, hold her hand, rub her back, and tell her everything would be okay. And remind her how very much she is loved. 

She’s recovering and has come through it with some effects that she is going to have to learn to manage. She is also dealing with the trauma of it all, and piecing together in her mind exactly what happened. Watching her go through it is hard because she is second guessing herself at every step and I just want to tell her how incredible she is; how incredible her brain is, doing it all it can to repair itself and manage the trauma. But mostly, I want to tell her that more than anything I am so glad that she is here. She will start to feel like her old self, even if she is forever changed. We will laugh and giggle and be mean to each other and relentlessly make fun at our parents like we used to. She will continue to kick arse at every single thing she does. She will keep on being the best sister I’ve ever known, and a fabulously inappropriate aunt. She will just do it all now with this horrible experience in the review mirror. Right now, it’s still really close, but it will move further and further into the distance. I have promised her that. 

Six weeks ago, my sister almost died. 

I don’t know who I would be without her. I’m holding her very close at the moment. Sisters are weird. We can oscillate between loving each other and needing space within minutes. But now, I just want to fulfil my role as big sister and protect her while she heals.

Two little girls in red and white standing next to a car. The little one has her hair in pigtails and the older one has her hair in a ponytail. They are both drinking cartons of Big M (milk) through straws. There are trees behind them.

My sister read this post and consented to me sharing it. She didn’t consent to the photo, but I’ll deal with the backlash when I next see her.