Other people

For most of my life, I've thought myself immortal.

Not truly immortal, but the kind of immortal that makes you believe that "those things only happen to other people." It will never be my mother, my father, my brother or my daughter. It will always be "other people."

It's happening to one of those "other people" right now, and the sadness I felt when I heard caught me a little off guard.

The "other person" and I are following each other on the social media site Twitter. He is a journalist in Des Moines who knows many of my co-workers. He and I, however, have never met. We have shared a few direct conversations, but for the most part, we're part of a larger community.

In addition to being a good networking and sourcing tool, Twitter is also a window into other peoples' lives. Through Twitter we have followed as this man -- who is probably about my age, give or take a year or two -- went through chemotherapy for his brain cancer, a few hospital stays and various doctors' appointments.

We have also read as he recently helped his son build a pinewood derby car (to the tune of about $65) and the struggles the two of them went through in that process. We've read about getting kids ready for school and other ordinary parenting issues.

Yesterday, we learned this "other person" got the news from his oncologist: 7 to 8 months. He sent out a tweet that he was starting his bucket list.

I immediately felt a profound sadness for this "other person" whom I've never met, the stranger in my computer who I, along with countless others, have digitally cheered on through his battle. I thought he was winning.

Godspeed, Other Person. Safe travels on your journey.