Wednesday, March 4, 2020


Back in January, when I was loopy from a way-too-high dosage (of that second drug) while undergoing daily radiation, I got three minutes of 'Happy' most evenings from an unexpected source.


With a fogged up brain, twitter's 280 character tweets were about the perfect amount of information I could process.  I randomly came across a new account at the beginning of the month; a gal from England had discovered an old BBC production and was live tweeting her reactions, thoughts and feelings every evening while she watched an episode.

I was familiar with the production and her tweets were delightful, so I posted this tweet:

She responded by telling me that this ^ changed everything for her. It went from being mindless fun, to having meaning, knowing I was reading in my blue radiation robes anticipating my zapping appointment.

Her account gained some attention and eventually there were a few dozen followers, most joining her at 8 pm GMT to watch the show, in their various homes and time zones. I'm assuming most of them were a generation or two younger than me as most of their tweets were GIFs. And all of their comments were wonderfully British.

Just before the end of the month, I received a private message from her:

THIS was sweet and unexpected.
We chatted for awhile and she shared with me that she'd had a rough 2019:

My little bother of cancer WAS NOTHING compared to what she was dealing with.
(She was also recently diagnosed with Stage 4 endometriosis and fibromyalgia.) So her body and soul were both in pain.

Here was this aching, hurting, exhausted gal, hosting twitter parties every evening, bringing joy and sass into our lives. I felt so helpless in how I could support her, so I did what I typically do, and told her I'd pray.
I can't do anything, realistically, from 5,000 miles away. But maybe God could do something?

And then, just after my last treatment, I got a message:

So, yes, OF COURSE I gave a stranger on the internet my home address. (All the safety-first security people reading this are clutching their hearts right now. THE DANGER! Someone from England could fly over here and steal me. Or something).

I asked for her address, and said I'd send her something Vancouver-ish and warned her it'd probably be rain-soaked. ( I ended up buying a copy of Jenn's very West Coast book, Must Love Otters as well as some Purdy's chocolate from Val and mailed it a few weeks ago. She'll probably get it in late 2023.)

My gift from her was a Robin of Loxley wristband. Which makes me feel high school cool. (Reminds me of when Clint used to wrap his wrists with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Bandaids.)

Last Monday night I got a private message from her: 

It's the first anniversary of losing Mum on Wednesday, so we're all feeling really fragile, but we're trying our best to take care of dad. Can't believe it's been a year already. Sort of.feels like 10 minutes and 10 years simultaneously.

So I googled Florists in Leyland to order flowers to be delivered on Wednesday. I ache for her. 
Flowers seemed so frivolous when she probably could've used a hug, some fresh muffins, and a foot massage. 

She'll be hosting the final two episodes of the three season series on Thursday and Friday this week. It'll be bittersweet for us both; it's been a lovely bit of light during a dark winter. 


I went back to work on Tues Feb 18, working four to six hours a day, building up my stamina to be alert and wise for 8 hours without a nap.

Last Friday (Feb 28) was my final day of transition hours. It also was the day I was to lead devo's. 
I am not a fan of this 'voluntold' opportunity. Standing in front of all the staff, first thing in the morning, to read, or share, or show something meaningful and inspiring before we pray, is just such a stretch for me. 

So on Friday I read a few pages from a John Ortberg book, about community and challenges and why rats need love. I finished by telling the twitter story above. And yes, once again I went WAY over my allotted 15 minutes. (For almost two months, I said very few words. My brain was broke. BUT NOW THAT THE LOW DOSAGE IS VERY LOW, Holy Moley JUST TRY TO SHUT ME UP. So many words. All needing to be said. I go on and on and on.)

I ended by asking everyone to pray for my British friend and noting that you can create 'community' anywhere. Even on twitter. 


When I got to work today, my office was locked. I don't have a key, so I wandered around the building looking for a master key that worked. Eventually I was let in, and BOY HOWDY it was hot like a sauna in there. I was a little ticked that someone had locked my door on me because it was going to take hours for the room to cool down. 

(Yes, I am still having personal heating issues. My internal fire burns strong these days. This is going to be long five years.)

When I finally sat down at my desk, I saw this:

(Yes, my phone has my name on it. While I was away, we got a new phone system, a new operating system, and increased security measures. I'm still figuring it all out and haven't bothered removing the stickers.)

Under that anonymous note?

CRAZY, right?

(Also THAT'S why my door was locked.)

Seriously. Do I work with the best people ever, or what? 

I was/still am totes overwhelmed by someone's generosity. Also not sure how to get this to her. 
Haha - do I ask for her banking info? We've exchanged addresses - this probably is how these things progress, yes? 😉😊😏😂😄

ANYWAYS. Anonymous co-worker, if you read my blog, THANK YOU THANKYOU thank youuuu
I'm so glad I get to work with you. And I forgive you for locking my door.

Thank YOU entertain industry, (writers, directors, producers, actors, costume people, set makers, drivers, gaffers...) for providing us with things to watch. And things to talk about. Thank you for creating things that make us feel, think, laugh, cry, connect. Thank you for shows that help us escape our aches and pains and make us smile. 

And thank you, smart people, for inventing the internet. 


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