First, two facts:
- Yesterday was the 6th anniversary of my first chemo treatment.
- I am struggling with a big decision I need to make; one that involves priorities and decisions about how I want to live my life; one that isn't easy for me.
Next, the backstory:
Last March, I received an email from Dana, a blog-reader. She let me know how much my story meant to her. She told me that she wanted me to understand the "the impact your blog and willingness to share your experiences has made on a stranger's life." She also told me that she was embarking on her first chemo treatment the next day.
We began a correspondence.
Now, to yesterday:
Yesterday was a rather difficult day for me. Like I mentioned above, I am struggling with a decision. In my heart, I know what I'm going to do, but I'm not quite sure how I'm going to do it yet. (And that's the hardest part.) And, in my head, I kept circling back to starting chemo six years ago . . . and how cancer changed my way of thinking about the world and my place in it . . . and how, now, I'd slid back to the "before" . . . losing sight of my own priorities and getting swept up in the drama around me.
And then, before I went to bed, I opened my email.
And there it was.
An email from Dana's husband. He wanted to let me know that Dana had passed away in late August. He said the chemotherapy was just never effective in stopping the advance of her cancer. He wanted me to know that I "had made a difference in Dana's life and helped her from a distance at a time she needed it most."
I came undone.
It is overwhelming ... the power of words.
I can't help but think that, on that particular day at that particular time, his words were the words I needed most. It was like Dana was reaching out and reminding me, "Girl. Where are your priorities? You don't have forever."
Words. . . with impact.