CATS was a winner on Broadway. Sis was eventually a loser when it came to cats.

When I was in college, Pop and Mom sold the farm and moved into a nice rambling ranch house. They had a nice large yard with woods on one side and farmland behind the backyard.

Sis continued to live with Mom and Pop when they made the move. She loved animals and began to take in stray cats. She started with one, then two. The numbers kept going up and when she died there were twenty-two cats in the house.

Now that's a lot of cat litter--and a lot of "you know what" to empty every day. But she didn't empty the litter boxes that often. So now you had to watch where you walked.

I looked forward to seeing Sis on the rare visits we made. But walking into that house was like walking into a rotten garbage dump; it was a horrible situation. The cats spared nothing. Curtains were torn to shreds, all the furniture became scratching posts, and sheets of newspapers were all over the floor to soak up the urine. And Sis wasn't doing too well. Obviously, the cats were not helping.

Sis was born on Memorial Day. Several years after Mom died, on a Memorial Day, Karen and I went to visit Sis. Before leaving home, I loaded my roto-tiller and a new lawn mower on my truck. The lawn mower was her birthday present.

When we pulled into the driveway, the manicured lawn I was used to seeing had turned into a hay field. The grass hadn't been mowed all spring.

We greeted Sis, wished her a Happy Birthday and we talked for awhile. She really didn't look good.

I asked her if she was OK. As usual, she said, "I'm OK." I said, "I don't think you are. What's wrong? You can tell me. After all, I'm your brother." She said, "Oh, nothing's wrong." On the third attempt, she said, "Oh, I discovered a lump on my left breast." What? I asked her when she had discovered it. "Oh, a couple of months ago." I asked, "what did the doctor say?" "Oh, I haven't been to see a doctor." I told her, in no uncertain terms, "You either call the doctor tomorrow or check into the emergency room of the hospital. I'll call you tomorrow night." After I finished tilling and planting her garden and Karen finished mowing the lawn, we said goodbye and headed for home.

The next night I called her. "What did the doctor say?" "Oh, I didn't call!" This went on for over a month. Finally I drove all the way to Rochester again for a talk. She told me her breast had numerous small lumps and the nipple was oozing puss. My heart sank. I knew instantly that she wasn't going to make it.

When she finally contacted a doctor, he told her "she was a goner." She was in denial, and suffered for a very long time. The cancer had spread to her bones and throughout her body. She died a horrible death six months later.

Ladies, if there is anything you get out of this book, remember the title, Never Say Can't . Sis couldn't make the call because she was fearful of the results. It cost her her life! Get an annual mammogram. Examine your breasts monthly. If you don't want to examine your breasts, ask your husband or boyfriend to do so. You might enjoy it! And it could save your life! By the way, MEN CAN GET BREAST CANCER TOO! So men, you know you have breasts with nipples. Yours just aren't as nice or large or as soft, or as attractive as a woman's. But that doesn't let you off the hook. You need to examine your breasts for any lumps. Let your wife or girlfriend show you the technique. It might tickle a little but, like I said before in this chapter, it might just spare you from dying from that horrible disease.

One final thought: The only way we are going to be able to spare perhaps you, or your loved ones, from this dreaded disease is through research. How about doing what I have been doing for years? Support your local Chapter of the American Cancer Society.