A Breathless Place

The Letter

I’m writing this almost six months before I will actually die. I could offer you proof of that, but it seems futile to put my energy into that right now. My point is that I’ve wanted this for a long time. Not that I’ve been dragging myself through the last months of my life, but I’ve known for years that this time would come.

And yes, it’s unfair I’ve been able to live toward this date and you haven’t. Please, don’t go blaming yourself for not noticing anything. I made sure that you didn’t. It’s not your fault. If any of you even think that for a split second, let me assure you that you’re on the wrong track. There’s nothing you could have done. This is me. This is where the events of my life have taken me. To illustrate this in more detail, let me tell you about my 50/50 theory.

Even before the surgery, I lived by this theory, out of necessity. The big difference between Before and After is that Before, I had my Voice, by which I mean my singing voice. I’ve always been fragile, delicate, perhaps a touch too sensitive for this world. I’m sure that isn’t news to you. Because of this, I came to realize that life is a 50/50 game. 50% of the time, I was happy or close enough. The other 50%, I decidedly wasn’t. I don’t believe I’m special when it comes to this. I think this is probably how it breaks down for most people. Or maybe not. I haven’t exactly done a survey on this. I can only speak for myself. I’ve always promised myself that if I was having too many 49% days, I would do something about it. And by something, I mean this. I don’t want to live a 49% life. Honestly, 50/50 is already hard enough.

I hope I’m explaining this adequately. Maybe not. To put it very simply: for a very long time, I was happy half the time. And that was enough. Because I had my Voice. I could sing. I was grateful for that gift. For all it gave me. The fame. The money. Although, honestly, I could have done without both, because I now know that they don’t mean a single thing. The insurance payout still leaves a very bad taste in my mouth. Millions in return for what? I would give literally all I have—I would go millions into debt—for one more night on stage. Because I know what that means to me and I know what money means to me. They don’t compare.

After the surgery, I had a long string of well-below 49% days, which was to be expected, of course. If there’s one thing you can’t accuse me of, it’s that I didn’t try. Because I tried every single thing. You know this. I didn’t give up easily because my Voice is worth fighting for. I would even dare say it’s the single most precious thing about me. It’s not just my Voice; it’s not just an organ that allows me to produce sound. When my Voice left me, a part of my soul, of what makes me quintessentially me, left me as well. Without what my Voice can do for me, I’m not the same Isabel Adler. I’m someone else.