The number of readers following my blog has been increasing slowly but steadily since I started writing 2-1/2 years ago. There’s been the odd jump in readership here and there, but mostly I’ve noticed a slow and steady incline. So imagine my dismay when, about a month ago, I lost three followers within one week. I was dumped.
Followers who dump me don’t have to provide a reason for leaving. No note from a parent, no far-fetched fabrication, no “It’s not you, it’s me.” I have to assume my dumpers got bored or annoyed or, possessing a better memory than me, realized I had run out of original ideas eons ago.
But there may have been another reason for the mass departure: my post title included the words “Go Fund Me”. If you recall, I was joking about soliciting funds to pay for a genetic clone of myself in order to lessen my anxiety about dying. Those who did not read past the title may have assumed I was genuinely seeking their hard-earned cash.
With that in mind, I will stress that, yet again, I am not asking you for money in this post. I’d much prefer your emotional support to your hard-earned cash. The leukemia walk is quickly approaching and my team, Annie’s Anemic Leukemics, is numbering 10 now, which thrills me. We will have a guest of honour, a fellow CMLer from out of town who did not want to walk alone, as well as a brain cancer survivor who wants to crash the blood cancer party, in addition to my beloved loyal supporters.
Let me stress that I am not trying to push you to join the team because I understand you may have more important things to do on the evening of October 15. You may be getting your nails done or catching up on your filing or getting a head start on your spring cleaning. I get that. Maybe you’re worried you lack the endurance to complete a 3-kilometer amble. I get that too. (Okay, I’m lying. Haven’t you heard that sitting is the new smoking?)
Or you may not want to participate in an event where little children with bald heads are running around having the time of their lives. I really get that. The sight of kids with cancer always makes me cry, even if those kids are just being kids, but without hair. In that case, skip the walk but sign my petition against kids with cancer. No, there’s no real petition, but I wish it were that easy.
I’m a bit ambivalent about the whole event myself–why do something that I know will make me cry?–but as a card-carrying member of the blood-cancer group, I feel showing up is the least I can do. For one night a year, I hang out with my kind, surrounded by my own amazing community of support. So if you can’t be there, feel free to join us in spirit. You can even sign up for my team for free if you want, so I can add you to my list of virtual supporters.
Consider yourself one of my imaginary friends for the evening. Of course I still have imaginary friends! Don’t you?