Here’s to miracles, metaphors and a sister who inspires them

I watched my sister Kathy climb 20 stairs at Lambeau Field Sunday night and thought about how inspirational metaphors can be.

As I’ve written about before, Kathy is a walking miracle. She has been a stage four cancer battler for a whole decade, and a breast cancer survivor for 13 years.

Her tenacity and strength have impressed us all, but the fight that requires them has taken a toll. The same medical protocol that is keeping her alive has led to physical challenges, including a chemo-inspired drop foot and a tendency to trip.

She refuses to let those inconveniences slow her down, even (some who know her might say especially) in a rollicking stadium with steep steps, no railings, and old school metal bench seats.

She leads a full life and most often refuses help. She insisted, for instance, on lugging her own heavy stadium seat as we hiked from our tailgate, through the crowded parking lot, and down the steps to the seats we’ve shared for more than 25 years.

I’m not proud of the response I had in the emotional aftermath of Kathy’s stage four diagnosis all those years ago.

“But, who will I go to Packer games with?” I thought.

My husband Vince and I had an unusual football arrangement during the active years of our parenting. He stayed home and babysat the kids, while I went to Packer home games with Kathy. Vince comes to games as well, now, but Kathy and I have maintained our two-seater sister section just four rows up from the visitors bench.

These days, Kathy often sits inside with my mom. 

So, I was extra excited to sit in Section 117 with Kathy on Sunday, and we had a blast.

We call her Chatty Kathy for good reason. I had not even gotten settled in my seat before she introduced herself to the slew of Dallas fans seated around us. One of those fans, easily identifiable by the giant hat she wore, turned out to be former Packer and current Cowboy Kenny Clark’s mom, Nicole.

She and Kathy hit it off (literally. At one point Nicole accidentally elbowed Kathy in the head, but they hugged it out.)

We left the game a little early so Kathy could make the climb up all those steps without getting banged around by 100 other people trying to do the same. The climb up is always a lot more difficult for anyone with balance issues.

Just a few rows into our journey, Kathy fell into a guy seated on the aisle.

“I’m not drunk,” she said. “I promise.”

He helped her either way.

Then, because Lambeau Field is the greatest stadium in the history of all professional sports (in my completely unbiased opinion), every single Section 117 aisle-seater held out an arm for Kathy as she made her way up those stairs. She braced herself on friendly shoulders and outstretched arms as she climbed up and out of the bowl.

And that’s the metaphor I got to see. 

You have to do the work yourself in this old world. You have to make that climb, even if it looks unsurmountable. But, there will always be people willing to lend a hand, and together, with their help and your determination, you’ll get there.

At least that’s the way Kathy does it every day.

Go Pack Go!

P.S. It did not escape my attention that Sunday was the Packers Battle Cancer game and I was especially proud to attend with the greatest cancer battler I know.