40 pounds at a time

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Occasionally we are lucky enough to cross paths with someone who will leave a lasting mark in our minds, our hearts, and our souls. And perhaps, we are even lucky enough to be that person to someone else.
​What follows is the story of how 10 minutes and $12 changed my life.

There is something that has been weighing on my mind heavily since Wednesday.
Emergency Ice is becoming a regular stop for me. And frankly, it's a welcome break from my hectic day. The front desk lady is always super nice (even when she's crazy busy). The guys in the back are extra helpful, and I'm even to the point where I can just walk into the back with my coolers and chat with the staff while I wait for my order.
It's not uncommon to see people waiting by the front desk with coolers, some in uniform, some not. The occasional small child or two while mom picks up ice for a party. 
I was surprised when there was only one man with one large cooler standing in the usually cramped waiting area. He had a very large, very clean cooler, with some kind of label on it which I couldn't read. He looked like he really knew what he was doing and I was in a bit of a hurry so I quickly explained what I needed to the front desk lady and she told me to just go on back.
One crew member was packing up a particularly large bag of dry ice pellets. I'd never seen one so large! Humorously he jokes to my guy "There you go man, I did that one for free!" and exits the building. The bag sits on the scale.
Now, my guy and I are hemming and hawing over quantities and what will fit into what cooler. Eventually, I fill my regular ice coolers while he works on the dry ice and as I run those coolers to the car, I see that same guy just standing in the waiting area. Perhaps this was his first time. I encourage him to just come on back as I'm quite sure the bag sitting on the scale is his for the taking. He's quick to accept my apology for "cutting" as I joke that I "simply can't afford any bad karma." 
He asks what I'm doing with the ice, and in response to his curiosity, or perhaps his disdain for awkward silence, I explain that I'm using dry ice to make cocktails more interesting. And I return the question. Without a pause, he says his wife has cancer and is having her first chemo treatment tomorrow. There is a company that makes headwraps, that when filled with very cold ice have been shown to prevent hair loss. Despite this very personal information he's told me he is quick to say they are hopeful and if he can do anything to help his wife he will!
My heart sinks. What do you say? Can you say anything? It is impossible to understand what he's feeling. He maintains this cool exterior. This positive vibe. This air of calmness in a most certain time of pain. I'm sure he's cried over this. But to me, he wishes me luck on my event and smiles as we part ways.
My stomach is in my throat. I get back to the front desk lady and remark that we are so, so lucky. I tell her his story. She says she has heard about these wraps as many people have come in before. I remark again. We are so, so lucky. I just shake my head. As I type this now, I am shaking my head. 
I am kicking myself because after I left, I think "I should have paid for the next chemo purchase." I don't think the money matters - in fact, chemo purchases get a huge discount to 30 cents per pound, and they require about 40 pounds. That's $12. Think about how the next person to walk in will feel knowing some person they don't know is in this with them. One other person is in their corner. Helping them fight the fight. 
I don't ask for much. In fact, I rarely ask for anything. But today I am asking for $12. I know you have $12. Sure, the next time I go in, I can give $12. No problem. But what if I could give $120? $240? My friends, I know you have $12. Skip an appetizer the next time you're out. Pass on Starbucks 2 days in a row. Give a bit of that fat tip you earned last night. I know you have $12.

Contributions totaled $837 as of 9.8.19; that is ONE day after the original post. 
I'd hoped that I could ask a few friends for $12 and impact 10, maybe even 20 people. SEVENTY people will walk into Emergency Ice, with their very large, very clean cooler. And they will walk out knowing one more person is in their corner.

Read the complete narrative and responses here.

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