So, I got some bad health news today.

No – I really don’t want to go into it. There are too many unknowns for me to go into detail. That’s actually part of the badness of the news: So many “I don’t know”s.

But there’s a familiar process to getting bad news. Call the family, call the fiancé, call the doctor’s office, call the insurance company, maybe not in that order. Rage into the abyss of twitter. Talk to a couple friends and ask for their good thoughts and/or prayers. Pretend I can’t hear the tension in my voice, pretend I can breathe deeply, pretend my voice isn’t an octave higher than it usually is – tight with worry, pretend I can carry on a conversation when I know I’m rambling. Get everything done that I can then settle in for the long, arduous wait until everyone else does their part. Realize I might not get to see the specialist for four weeks. Realize I might not get answers that first appointment. Go through a dozen awful scenarios in my head before I realize my voice is just going higher and higher in pitch and that I’m almost hyperventilating. Hope the customers can’t hear it over the phone. Be grateful they can’t see me because there will be no hiding wide eyes that can’t seem to focus. Try to calm down. Do everything I can. Wait.

Bad news sucks.

And then, as the panic began to dissipate, my first coherent thought was, “I should tweet Amanda Palmer.”


I have no idea where that came from. Why it was Amanda that my mind ran to after the necessities and panic. Why it wasn’t someone I knew.

But, somehow, it made total sense. It still does. Because Amanda is the person who tweets, quite regularly, “i love you” to her audience. Amanda tells people to have better days when they tell her they’re having bad ones and Amanda tells us when she’s having a bad day so that we can do the same for her. Amanda is genuinely grateful to hear when her music has made people feel something. Amanda truly cares and you can tell.

So, I started formulating my tweet and I realized I didn’t want just to tell Amanda that the thought of her made me feel better. I wanted her to understand that she was the FIRST THING my mind went to after I took care of my people and the panic. I wanted her to understand that it wasn’t just her music that appealed to me, but also her presence for her fans. And that meant I needed more room.

And here I am.

Here I am to tell Amanda thank you. Or I love you. It’s funny how those words can, and often do, mean the same thing. Thank you (I love you) for being around to provide comfort and solace. I love you (thank you) for choosing to share yourself with your fans. Thank you (I love you) for being a light – through music and social media – to so many people. I love you (thank you) for understanding that caring and community need not be limited to those in your physical sphere.

I really hope you see this. That you understand that is isn’t just that your personality and music brings a smile to my face. (Though this is still my happy thought that I’m clinging to until I get a call that will calm some of this panic.) That you understand that connecting to you and your fans has been a support system I’ve treasured in the last year. That you have made a difference.

Thank you.

I love you.