So Memorable. So Megan
Megan's mom, Marcie, called me the day after Megan died. She knew I'd been working with Megan to turn her recent travels into a memoir. While talking, Marcie said the phrase, "So memorable, so Megan." The words struck me. It's impossible to describe a life in four words, but these ring true.
So Memorable. So Megan.
The words acute myeloid leukemia were foreign to me until May 7, 2019. That life-changing day, my husband Ramón's received a surprising gift for 40th birthday: an AML diagnosis.
Megan Nelms, however, learned those words 31 days prior, on April 6, 2019. She was 26.
Through Instagram, I connected with Megan soon after Ramón's diagnosis. Thus, our strangely morbid friendship began. Not only had AML struck both our lives like a bolt of lightning, but I'd spent a lifetime contemplating death due to my cystic fibrosis (CF) diagnosis. We were death buddies.
Though our friendship was short, it was powerful.
Time flies when life is f*cked up!
Megan weaved her way into my heart and soul, as she did with many. Her spirit is alive and well, and I'm grateful to help share Megan's beautiful story.
How We Met
Behind the Scenes
When Megan realized death was a real possibility, she didn't sulk. She bucked up for adventure.
Megan updated her Instagram bio...
doctor turned cancer patient squeezing
every last drop out of life 🍊
and she got busy LIVING. Real hard.
July 3, 2022
Megan: Would you help me write a memoir? I'm drafting it.
Me: Of course!
Megan: But I'd like to leave something behind of myself and the year I've had.
*Megan sends the first draft later that day.*
July 5, 2022
Megan: Did you get my memoir email?
Me: Yes! I will open it now!
Me: Oh, man. This makes my heart so happy. I feel like I lived multiple lifetimes just reading it.
July 6, 2022
Me: How can I best help with the writing you sent me?!
Me: Like, how can I be most helpful?
Megan: Sorry for not replying. I'm in the ICU :/
Me: Well damn. No need to apologize.
Me: Hope you're not there long.
Megan: I'm doing much better than earlier today, hoping to be out soon. I guess I'm not sure what to do with my little essay now that I've gotten it off my chest. Maybe put it somewhere.
July 12, 2022
Me: How's one of my favorite humans?
Me: Like, how can I be most helpful?
Megan: Sorry for not replying. I'm in the ICU :/
Me: Well damn. No need to apologize.
[continued on next column]
September 4, 2022
Megan: I'm wondering if you could mark up my memoir? I edited some.
Megan: I can pay you.
Megan: I'd like to leave a blog memoir with photos and know things could be worded better or grammatically I'm sure I missed things.
Megan: I just want it to sound nice.
Me: I would be happy to! No payment please. Send me the latest.
*Megan sends the latest draft.*
October 5, 2022
Me: Just emailed [your memoir]. FINALLY! Are you in the hosp?
Megan: I just got out today. I was just about to text you. My biopsy showed improvement but not enough to go to transplant, so I've decided to switch to palliative care. I'm open to trials but nothing has really jumped out at me yet.
Me: Boo on the biopsy. After working on your memoir the last couple weeks, my heart feels happy just at the richness and passion in your words. But AML is bullshit, nonetheless.
Megan: Thank you so much for doing that for me drew. I can't wait to look at it.
Megan: And AML is bullshit.
Then we made plans to get together for dinner that weekend. It was the last time I saw Megan in the physical form.
October 19, 2022
Me: Haaaay, just sending you some Wednesday love.
October 21, 2022
Megan: Haaaaa ily more.
Me: Yay!
October 23, 2022
I opened Instagram to a stunning photo of Megan. My heart sunk. It didn't look like a typical Megan post.
And it wasn't.
