I don’t know Anissa Mayhew, not really. We’ve exchanged a handful of messages on Twitter. I read her blog. She makes me laugh.
Because of the voyeurism that is the blog world, I see her picture often on the blogs of friends, their twitter background, posts about conferences and parties and blogger trips. She is laughing, or smiling, always looking like she has been freshly spritzed with Eau de Up to Something.” From their stories of boob-grabbing and disco dancing and deciding their shoes look like a porn star’s, apparently she usually was.
She was getting ready, in fact, to go on a Disney Cruise with other bloggers this week. I read her post about it yesterday, first with twinges of jealousy, then connections of complete sisterhood when she talked about her swimsuit-wearing terrors. Girl, I have pictures of myself with Shamu from this weekend where you can’t tell which mammal’s which. I GET it.
Then last night, the updates started flooding my Twitter stream. Despair and heartbreak and faith and worry — all in 140 characters or less. She’d had a stroke, was in ICU.
Thirty-five, a wife and mother of 3.
Too young. Too needed.
This was Anissa’s second stroke. She wrote a beautiful post called Rice and Buttons about what she’d lost, and what she’d gained, as she struggled for recovery from her first . I’d encourage you to read it.
As she fights again now, I join with her friends and family in prayer for her complete recovery. I ask you to do the same. The reports on her condition are heartbreakingly serious.
Her friends at Aiming Low also have ways you can tangibly help her family, if you are moved to do that. That site is pretty swamped with traffic right now, so if you get an error message, the information is also cross-posted here.