Peaks woman tells late sister’s story to caution against faith healing | Column
Peaks Island resident Janis Price marked the last weekend of September 2026 by placing her yearly memorial notice in the Maine Sunday Telegram for her younger sister, Nancy, who would have turned 70 this year. The tribute continues a tradition Price began in 2004, honoring a life that ended when Nancy was just seven years old.
According to Price, Nancy fell ill while the family lived in Texas. The girl developed a swollen neck and persistent vomiting, yet no medical care was sought. Price said her parents, who adhered to a faith‑healing tradition rooted in Christian Science, told Nancy that her recovery depended on believing God would heal her. Letters from a Christian Science teacher that Price later found among her mother’s belongings reinforced that message, suggesting that true faith would make the lumps disappear.
The death certificate on file lists the cause as “probably malignant lymphoma.” Price has been unable to locate an autopsy report or any record of an obituary from the sisters’ hometown. She recalls waking one Saturday morning to hear her parents say simply, “Nancy’s gone,” with no further explanation.
Now living on Peaks Island, Price says the annual remembrance is both a personal act of grief and a broader effort to highlight the consequences of denying children medical treatment on religious grounds. She has testified before the Maine State Legislature on several occasions—supporting bills that removed religious exemptions from child‑abuse reporting, eliminated non‑medical vaccine opt‑outs, and opposed attempts to reinstate those exemptions. Price points to Maine’s recent school‑vaccination rate of at least 95 % as evidence that legislative change can improve public health.
Beyond advocacy, Price shared how her sister’s death shaped her own life. She described a cascade of emotional and behavioral struggles that began in childhood—bed‑wetting, sudden tears, and avoidance of situations that reminded her of Nancy’s illness. As an adult, she experienced risky relationships, failed marriages, severed friendships and suicide attempts. A move to Maine in 1999, sparked by a chance meeting with a man from Vinalhaven, eventually gave her a sense of peace. She now lives on Peaks Island, raises two daughters there, and participates in a ukulele band, a drumming circle and a Spanish club.
Price keeps a trove of documents, photographs and personal mementos—including Nancy’s red pencil case, a favorite book titled The Lonely Doll Learns a Lesson, and handwritten notes on pink and yellow sticky notes—in a filing cabinet by her bed. Underneath the bed sits a box holding sympathy notes, letters Nancy wrote, and the sisters’ childhood rocking chairs, which she still places beside her sleeping area.
She said, “She was once here. She was a real person,” reflecting on the portraits of herself and Nancy painted by their grandmother that hang above her pillow. Price also recalled the morning she learned of her sister’s death: “That Sunday morning, they woke me up and said, ‘Nancy’s gone,’ and that was it.” When asked why she continues the yearly tribute, she replied, “Nancy’s story is just, I guess, really compelling,” and added, “I don’t want her to be forgotten.”
Price takes antidepressants to manage lingering sadness and sleeplessness, and she still plugs her ears at the sound of choking—a reflex tied to memories of her sister’s vomiting. Though she no longer speaks with her other siblings, she maintains close friendships and a longtime partner who lives in Saco and joins her on sailing trips. She views her sister’s quiet bravery as a guiding light during her darkest moments and hopes that by telling Nancy’s story, other families might avoid similar loss.
