Over the last several months, I’ve become friendly with some peeps and Tweeps/creeps in the cyber-world. Mostly, these are other bloggers, living in other cities, so we’ve not (yet) met in person. This matters little when you talk about “caring.”
Reading the stories about daily life with work and family only affords a person a glimpse into another’s life, but when a person shares with honesty AND that person makes me laugh until I snort juice out my nose… well, when I get the impression that this person and I could be friends, I can’t help but care about him or her. What can I say? My affection for another can run deep if that person gets me in the funny-bone. It’s the mainline to my crusty heart. Works every time. Oftentimes, love quickly follows.
And this is genuine. I am not fickle.
In the evening yesterday, I came to understand via Twitter that one of these said people-I-heart, Anissa Mayhew, had suffered a stroke and was in in hospital in intensive care. Holy. Shit. Holyshitholyshitholyshit!!
Just that afternoon, we’d been busily discussing the merits of bacon and the Jonas Brothers. (Me no likey the Jonas Brothers, but you know how I love the bacon.) In the past, we’ve chatted about her slut-love for Ralph Macchio, and about the finer points of resisting killing spouses at the Home Depot, even though the useful, pointy tools are at only an arm’s length away. Our kids drive us bonkers sometimes, but we adore our families, natch.
I once sent her a message describing a snippet of a dream I had… a post-spicy-meal-with-beer nap-dream I had one afternoon wherein I was applying makeup to her face, filling in her eyebrows, which we were arguing about – she proclaimed that they were too skinny and make her look “chinky and weird.” She wrote back to say “Chinky and weird might have to become my new tag-line.” She is baudy, hilarious, and très cool. She is a refreshingly awesome rarity, and I really, really like her. We clever bitches make each other laugh. Laughing is good.
She has a child recovering from Leukemia – she recently marked the year anniversary of “in the clear” with only four years to go until she could call her baby totally cancer-free. Isn’t this kind of sorry aggravation enough for one person? She’s a loving wife, and a mother to three growing children. Really universe… it’s just not fair.
I’m not a praying woman. What I mean is, I don’t believe in asking for favours from a faceless entity in the sky in whom I do not believe. (The baby Jesus and I are more than estranged, but that’s just me.) I do believe in karma to some extent, so I really do my best to be kind, and to be supportive of others. You reap what you sow. This sad tale only serves to remind me that life’s dramas can be completely fucking random, that the meek do not always inherit the earth, and that bad things happen to good people all the time. It totally blows when that happens. There is no rhyme or reason. This makes me sad.
But, I do believe in collective thought. I’m no hippie – it’s just a positive-energy thing, and there’s a science around that. (And I mean real science, not, like, crystals and yoga science.) Being in tune, on the same wave-length as others, many others, all at the same time can affect changes. I believe this to be absolutely true. I suppose this is a lot like prayer, only I’m not calling it that.
So today, I will think about this lady-friend of mine, and put forth all my affection and support for her full recovery. I know my thoughts are not alone – she is loved and adored by many, many fine people out there – which gives me a little bit of hope. And anyway, it’s the only way I feel like I can be of any use at all…
I’m thinking of you Anissa. Hurry up and get well – I’m looking forward to getting my giggle on with you again… soon.
NOTE: Despite the rumours, I do not make deals with the devil, but after yesterday, I might consider reducing my bacon intake by half.
G.G.
