Paying it forward

It's reading other people's posts about stunning diagnoses that busts my heart these days. On Monday afternoon I read the Facebook post of a client whose wife is about to go through an intense year of healing and treatment. Within four seconds I was crying, sobbing even. 

And man, was I mad at the universe. 

I found/find it hard to be angry at the universe for my own situation - maybe because I'm so focused on getting through that I don't want to stop and emote yet. But I was so angry for this woman. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I kept thinking and saying through my tears.

I decided pretty quickly that our paper cranes, sent by many friends and people I don't even know, had found their next home. So this morning we took them down and packed them in a big box and soon they'll be on their way to help their next patient. 

I know what this woman is going through. The early days of diagnosis are foreign and foggy, sleepless and confusing. At least, they were for me. So I empathize with at least some of what she's going through.

But as we put the box together this morning and I attempted to write a card too, I also empathized with everyone who sent me a card or crane or gift or message. Man, what do you say to someone who has been dealt the most unfair thing you can imagine? How does it not ring hollow and like you're pissing in the wind?

Well, having sat on both sides of this ugly situation lately, I'll say that it's the thought that counts, as with everything else in life. Your smooshed paper crane, your cheesy get well card, the flowers or book or soft socks that you send... it's the energy behind the gift that shows up. I would see a return address and instantly feel a warmth, a tiny burst of happiness. I am still avoiding email much of the time but I do see names or subject lines sometimes and it's the same thing.

It's your intention that matters. I hope these cranes bring our best support and warmth to a woman who now needs it more than we do.