My

sister is the
strongest
person
I

know.
On

March 12, 2014,
she
was
the

victim of a head-on
collision that should
have sent her Pontiac’s
engine into the cabin
of her car and cut her in
half. Instead, miraculously,
it didn’t, and Kasandra is still
here to laugh a little too loud
and keep me in line. To say I
love her is an understatement.

While
Kasandra’s

unbelievable
survival
is

something my family celebrates
every day, she suffered extensive
injuries. Since the accident she’s
had three invasive hip surgeries.
The first two operations fixed her torn
labrums — one in each hip socket — and the
third, recent procedure was to re-open her right hip to
remove a massive calcium deposit.

Each of these surgeries has left her homebound for

weeks, unable to bathe and clothe herself without our
mother’s help, and in an extreme amount of pain. Though
I’m confident Kasandra will make a complete recovery to
full mobility, there will still be setbacks. By the end of the
ordeal, she’ll have been robbed of more than two years
in her 20s due to surgeries and painful recovery because
of the other driver’s carelessness. Even at the end of
Kasandra’s recovery, she’ll never again be able to run and
jump like she otherwise would have been able to.

Kasandra has an undying determination to continue

to live beyond her current limitations and put both
feet forward as best she can. She still dresses up and
goes out, albeit with her hip brace attached over all her
dresses. Kasandra needs help putting her right shoe on
and someone to condition her hair in the kitchen sink.
She always needs to find a table that can accommodate
her wheelchair, an elevator to get to the train platform, a
sidewalk even enough to get down the street. And though
it would be so much easier to stay home and sulk, my sister
doesn’t.

I have always drawn strength from my sister. I’m a

believer
in
fate:
I

think destiny exists and there
is

a reason Kasandra is the older sibling. She has been the
only person to unquestionably stay by my side through
everything since I was born. Kasandra is both my role
model and my best friend, and shows me every day —
especially now — that strength is not inherent. No one is
born strong. Instead, people are given the opportunity to
be strong.

I can’t begin to imagine how much easier it would be

to never leave the house. Getting ready for anything
takes so much more effort for Kasandra than it used to,
and honestly, if I were in her place, I don’t know that I
would have the will to keep on going the way she has.
Between the painful at-home hip exercises and powerful
pain medications at the beginning of each recovery, I don’t
know where she gets the stamina to do it all.

Even more amazing to me is her mental recovery during

this period. After such a traumatic experience, I can’t
fathom what it must have been like to get back in a car and
drive through the spot where the other driver crossed into
her lane.

Her persistence is a large part of the reason why I finally

decided to come out this past summer. Though I don’t
know how I would act if I were in my sister’s place, seeing
her have the continued determination to live beyond the

hand she was dealt gave
me the courage to finally be

honest with both myself and

everyone I know. I realized that

if Kasandra could wake up each

day and face the world and all its
challenges for her circumstances, so
could I.

Kasandra has always shown me

what it means to be a strong person.
It isn’t easy, but I now know that it’s

worth it. Every challenge she has faced,

even before her accident, has made my sister

the incredibly tenacious person she is today.
It’s because she has met each obstacle with the
courage to do right and the will to keep going
that I know she will recover in both body and
spirit. She is, in short, unstoppable.

That doesn’t mean, however, there haven’t been

moments of struggle. I’ve seen her frustration with
the accident, the three surgeries, the dependence

she’s had on others and the enormity of everyday

tasks for her. It’s so incredibly difficult to watch

those you love suffer through pain for the hope of an

easier future, but Kasandra has this fire in her that never
ceases to burn. My sister is a force, a fierce woman and an
individual. Needless to say, she isn’t usually one to ask for
help unless she really needs it.

Watching my sister go through this ordeal has made

me realize that strength does not always equate to
independence. In fact, it often means the opposite. Being
strong doesn’t mean standing alone and above everyone.
It’s recognizing that you need help and asking for it. It’s
being patient when it would be so easy to fall apart. It’s
having the determination to keep living.

Through my whole life Kasandra has shown me

how important it is to be independent, persistent and
unapologetically individual. Not a single day goes by
where I think of how horribly altered my life would have
been if the car engine had entered the cabin and ended her
life. In a lot of ways, it would have ended mine too. I would
have lost my best friend, my only sibling, my greatest hero.

I’m so incredibly fortunate to still find her support

and undying love. My sister gives me hope that there are
people in this world filled with compassion and courage,
determination and strong will, strength. And every day,
she reminds me that I can be one of them.

Wednesday, October 19, 2016 // The Statement
6B

by Brandon Summers-Miller,
Daily Staff Reporter

ILLUSTRATION BY SHANE ACHENBACH

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