I was in a quandary: should I say “yes” or “no”? “Yes” meant a new client, future work, a sense of security and, above all, a new source of pleasure. “No” meant not having a deadline, which would cause less stress and, therefore, imply less of a possibility of having a seizure, more of an opportunity to heal, and more time to devote to my rehab exercises (which would, in turn, offer more of an opportunity to heal). In short, “no” meant giving up my sense of financial security in order to increase my ability to heal.
I discussed it with Eric before I answered, and I decided to answer “no.” I would explain what had happened to my brain and the reason for my regretful refusal, leaving the door open to a potential relationship. I opted for healing and gave up security, somewhat reluctantly. But I would wait a day to do that to have time to sleep on it.
The next day, when the time came to check my mail, I started to look for the email from the prospective client so I could answer it. I looked on my inbox, and it wasn’t there. I looked on the “clients” mailbox, and it wasn’t there either. I began to get somewhat concerned. I thought of other possible locations, and looked into the trash and junk folders; nowhere to be found. Concern turned into anxiety. I went back to each folder and searched thoroughly; nowhere to be found, again.
So, overwhelmed by acute anxiety mixed with desperation, I called Eric and asked for his help. He reminded me of another resource. I used it and finally located the email: it had been sent in October, 2018. It had got here in the middle of my convalescence, when I was incapable of checking and answering emails, let alone translating or working. The discovery was a punch in the stomach. What was the point of answering her and explaining my belated response? Would I gain a new client? Was I capable of delivering a well-done job on time? Now, instead of solving a dilemma, I had many questions to answer.