You may have heard by now that my dearest friend Nadia passed away on Wednesday. I know that many people did not know she was ill, and I wanted to share the details with care and clarity. When someone in our community passes, there are always questions, which can easily turn into rumors, and people are often afraid to ask. Nadia and I talked about this at length.
She always held hope that she would recover, so she chose not to share her medical struggles. No one wants to appear defective or fragile, and in our line of work that fear is very real. People may say that is not true, but it is. No one books the woman they think might die in their hotel room.
Over twenty years ago, Nadia had a tumor on her chest that was treated with radiation. She survived cancer, which was a victory worth celebrating. Unfortunately, the radiation caused severe damage to her heart and lungs. She managed fairly well for more than two decades, but eventually the damage caught up with her. She endured valve replacements, heart failure, and lungs that slowly lost capacity, leaving her increasingly breathless.
About a year ago, she underwent a major open chest surgery. The old cancer damage had become deeply entangled in her heart and lungs,(they described it as fried like bacon) and the surgeons worked painstakingly to remove what they could. That surgery marked the beginning of an incredibly difficult year filled with atrial fibrillation, dangerously low oxygen levels, and frequent hospital stays. She went through cycles of improvement and decline, but she never stopped fighting.
Until the final weeks, she was still battling insurance issues, moving from one doctor to another almost daily, attending cardiac rehab several times a week, and enduring constant tests and treatments. She was on oxygen at home for months and carried portable oxygen with her when she worked. She always looked so beautiful that it was hard to believe how sick she truly was.
By December, she weighed just 110 pounds. It is strange how many of us struggle to lose weight our entire lives, only for it to disappear at the end. She was so small that I started calling her my little Thumbelina. I brought her meals when she was home and visited her when she was hospitalized, though it never felt like enough.
When I visited her a few days before she passed, she told me she had returned all the deposits she was holding for future dates. She wrote "you know, integrity.” That was Nadia. By that point, she could barely speak because she no longer had the breath. That was when I knew she was letting go. There was only one way out of that hospital bed, and it was not alive.
I was supposed to see her again on Wednesday, but that morning her daughter called me in tears with the news. I have been quiet on social media for a few days, but I know Nadia touched many of you, and you deserved to know.
She will always live in my heart. Thank God she was always eager to take photos with me, because I have spent the past few days watching our videos and reliving everything she showed up for. She brought joy to every occasion, no matter what her body was enduring. I have photos of the birthdays, the shows, and the moments we shared, and I am deeply grateful to have known her.
Nadia was the friend I could have deep, meaningful conversations with about life and purpose. I once told her how lucky she was to truly know what you would do or say if you knew this was the end of your life. I hate that she endured so much physical pain, but she spent her life laying the groundwork for immense spiritual and emotional comfort for others. She had more people who loved her than anyone I have ever known, and I hope she felt that love all the way to the end.
