I'm posting this memory so my great grandkids will know how good, kind and generous people were during this pandemic.
If you follow me on Facebook, you probably know bits and pieces of the story, but not all of it... in particular, what happened on Christmas Eve.
The story starts in Jan 2020. I was sitting in the basement of the Fraser Valley Cancer Clinic on a dark and wet night, waiting for my radiation appointment. I had been driving myself to and from my appointments, so as I sat in that quiet corner, wearing two blue gowns, I didn't feel guilty scrolling through Twitter on my phone to pass time.
I stumbled upon a new account, called Louise Does Loxley, which was delightful. "Louise" was watching the 2006 BBC version of Robin Hood, one episode per evening, and live tweeting her impressions, thoughts, feelings, criticisms as she viewed each show. She was 3 episodes in and she was so funny. Witty. Entertaining. Sarcastic. Appreciative.
In other words, she had me hooked. She was 8 time zones ahead of me, so by the time I checked her account in the evening, it had been sitting there all day, online waiting for me to enjoy. After a couple days, I introduced myself to her; told her my situation and she responded with compassion and a commitment to provide me with something to read every evening while I was undergoing treatment.
(I feel like I should insert a photo here; this is going to be a very text heavy post. But she has since deleted her Twitter account, our private conversations disappeared then as well. Which is too bad, as I'd love to be able to screen-cap some of her funnier bits and post them here. Oh well...)
On January 30, she sent me a private message; "Hey. I've got it marked on my calendar that tomorrow is your last day of treatment. SO excited for you! How will you be celebrating? I want to do something special for you, so I'm going to review TWO episodes for you."
(Can I say how every touched I was? This was such a sweet gesture.)
Even after my treatment, I continued my evening routine of reading her tweets, because they were so much fun and now a normal part of my life. Near the end of February she asked me for my mailing address (which I gave her with no hesitation) and she sent me a limited edited, collectible, numbered Robin Hood wrist band. I, of course, responded by sending her some Canadian gifts, including Purdy's chocolates and a book written by my friend, Jenn.
It was at this point that I started asking her about HER. And I found out about her own personal health challenges as well as all the deaths in her family over the previous year, including her mom and her best friend.
Covid happened, and both our worlds changed. We kept in touch, and I was aching for her. She was in chronic pain, unable to work, living with her sister, and trying to care for her ailing dad. I wanted to help her and the only thing I could think of doing was sending her some money.
During the summer I learned how to put dots on rocks.
And thought I'd sell a few, with all the proceeds going to my British Twitter friend.
(To be honest, I thought the only person who'd buy them would be my mom. And assumed I'd be sending a couple hundred dollars to England by the end of August.)
MUCH TO MY ASTONISHMENT, in three weeks, I sold eleventy gazillion rocks (to the most supportive friends and generous co-workers) and raised $1800 (which equals one thousand British pounds, coincidentally the exact amount that she'd lost to a phone scam earlier in the month).
Sadly, the day she, Heather, ("Louise" was just her Twitter handle) received the bank draft by courier, her sister was rushed to the hospital, on the brink of death. (She eventually recovered, but her health remains precarious.)
I didn't hear from Heather much during the Fall. But when I did, in mid-November, things were not well in her life. Her dad's health was deteriorating, her sister was failing, she was broken-hearted, and her body was in constant pain. She was under the care of emergency local mental health professionals, as she just wanted to die.
Besides praying for her, (and asking my team at work, as well as some friends to join me in doing so) I wanted to do something else for her. And I was reminded of her joy back in January, when she was watching the 39 episodes of Robin Hood.
So.
So I thought I'd contact each of the main actors and ask them to send her a card.
Yes. You totally read that right.
Hi Jonas, Lucy, Joe, Keith,
Gordon, Sam, Richard, Anjali and Harry …
January in Canada is cold and cruel. (The same is likely true for England.) And having (breast) cancer treatments during that miserable month makes it especially crappy.
The highlight of January 2020 was
discovering the LOUISE DOES LOCKSLEY twitter account while sitting in the
waiting room of the cancer clinic’s radiation department. “Louise” had just
stumbled upon your Robin Hood and love, LOVE, L.O.V.E.D it. As she watched an
episode each evening, she’d live tweet her thoughts, observations, and feelings
with razor sharp wit and wonderfully appropriate (or not) GIFs. I was
entertained by her delightful commentary from eight time zones away.
After a few days, I sent her a
private message introducing myself/my situation, and an unlikely but friendly
relationship formed. She was committed to continuing her daily viewing/tweeting
for me, a stranger, 5,000 miles away.
Eventually I finished my
treatments and she completed her 39-episode marathon. And then Covid hit.
I’m doing fine; cancer-free,
working, healthy and safe but my English Twitter friend is having a horrible
time of it. There have been deaths in her family, on-going illnesses, chronic
health challenges, unemployment, etc. She is struggling both physically and
mentally.
The greatest moments of joy she’s
experienced this year was when she was watching y’all frolicking in the forest
and canoodling in the castle.
I’d love to surprise her with
cards from the cast of The Show That Made Her Smile.
I’ve printed off some photos,
attached them to cards, put them in envelopes that have been addressed and
stamped. Really hoping you have time to add your signatures and a friendly
“hi”. I know this won’t change her circumstances, but maybe it’ll provide a ray
of light into her dark place.
Take care, be safe, much love,
Jane
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