Save A Life

When you are at the brink of destruction; at your most vulnerable and desperate hour and everyone has given up on you, this is when the stranger appears. The stranger arrives when your heart is broken open, ready, and believing. The stranger’s eye is clear and not stained with your past mistakes. They are the ones who will leave you that hundred dollar tip or unexpectedly offer you a new opportunity. They are the ones who will stop and change your tire on the freeway, or give you a place to stay for a while.

She is the one who compassionately looked you in the eye in the store when your abusive partner was yelling at you. Like an angel, s/he came in at the last moment and gave you the support or the advice you needed. They made the call to a friend and put themselves at risk to open an essential door for you because they saw something amazing in you.

The stranger is the one who gave you something that was a much bigger personal sacrifice than you ever knew, because s/he did it with humility, grace, and with no expectation. The stranger is the one who believed in you when no one else would. The stranger uplifted you with words of hope and optimism when you were at your lowest. The stranger silently suffered to give you room to recover and to try again.

The stranger meets you halfway on a bridge called faith. The stranger is coming to make someone’s dreams come true. The stranger’s hand is appearing out of nowhere and rescuing someone just before they slip over the edge. The stranger’s appearance is in perfect time and is a miracle. The stranger could be a real life angel. Have faith and courage, and — BE THE STRANGER.

—Bryant McGill

Thank you to the people who have helped me in times of great struggle.

In all seriousness, being sick made this a long, drawn out week. It was only made better by lots of fluids, rest, and soup. I am nothing if not serious about soup. Unfortunately, whatever this virus is, it lulled me into a false sense of security because it’s a sadistic bastard. I was fine for a day or two, and then it came back stronger and took me out. I lost an entire day of work because I desperately needed medicine and rest. I’m taking a less powerful dose of the medicine now, but I am still achy and not feeling like myself, plus the medicine is working on my lungs big time. Quite frankly, I did not know they were so deeply involved. It’s disgusting, really. Moreover, should this be making my kidneys feels like they’re going to run off and leave me? I’m certain the answer is “No.”

“Starve a fever, feed a cold.” is not nonsense, it’s true. My appetite hasn’t once been off. Obviously, I can’t eat certain things at the moment, but everything I can eat is making a difference, or at least that’s what I am being led to believe.

All things taken into consideration, I think I was a rock star this week. Sick as a dog, but under deadline, I completed the big manuscript yesterday afternoon ahead of schedule. Unlike the previously aforementioned ~~asshole~~ client I alluded to days ago, this one was incredibly respectful and immediately gave me professional feedback. I address issues right away, I don’t slip them into something serious nearly two full months after the fact. Yes, it still pisses me off.

I have two additional, albeit smaller, manuscripts to get through by Friday and then another client would like me to take a look at a couple of chapters. Both of them are aware that I am sick and both of them told me “No rush at all, there’s no deadline for this.” In all fairness, that probably only makes me work harder because I take my contracts seriously. I’ll do my best, but I might give myself part of this weekend to stay in bed and (possibly) watch season 3 of Sons of Anarchy. Approximately thirteen hours of Charlie Hunnam… It’s all part of the healing process, folks. (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!)

I’m tired, achy, unpleasant, and seriously contemplating breakfast. How badly do I want it? How much work is truly involved, and do I REALLY want to eat? The truth is, I’m hungry and I do want to eat, but knowing this involves some work on my part means I’m not running to the kitchen just yet.

Also, I am beyond saddened to learn that I will be unable to donate bone marrow because of the Fibromyalgia. I didn’t talk about this when I first found out earlier in the week because I was very upset and found myself in tears. One of my neighbors has been stricken with cancer. My first thought was “I can donate blood and get tested to see if I’m a match to donate bone marrow.” I lost my father to cancer when he was 63. He bravely battled various forms of cancer for 15 years before it took his life. I’ve lost many key family members to cancer, and hearing about this makes me ill to the core. I don’t feel that my neighbors’ children deserve to lose their father so young (I was both young enough, but still adult enough to handle it to the best of my ability without self-destructing.), so I am determined to do whatever I can to help. After days of research, I found out this morning that Fibro patients cannot donate at all. My brother CAN be tested and is more than willing to donate, but since I cannot, and feel like shit for it, the organization has suggested I put together a registry drive in my area to help bring about awareness and possibly save some lives. I will speak with them about this next week. I’m very upset that this is all that I can personally do, but I believe something MUST be done, so I am taking the initiative. If you live in the Northeast Philadelphia area, maybe you can volunteer or come out to the drive and get tested. I will provide a date and time as soon as I know more.

And now, back to your regularly scheduled Saturday. I hope everyone has a good one.