Honce

Dear Readers,

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Today, right now, this is my mantra.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

You've heard me talk about my friend Loren before. As far as friends go, he's the creme de la creme. Cream of the crop. Top drawer. More family than friend. More friend than family. He is my Lojo, and I am his h.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

He told me a little over a week ago that he was sick. He didn't need to tell me, because I know him as well as myself, and I've known for a long time that he was sick. They put him in the hospital for observation.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

He told me a little less than a week ago that he has cancer. He needed to tell me this, because I know him as well as myself, and I never would have imagined that it was cancer. They're keeping him in the hospital for treatment.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

This is one of those situations where I feel like Dorothy while she's in the house in the tornado on her way to Oz. Everything is spinning around her out of control, and she just holds tight to Toto and watches strange images fly past the window. My friends and family are the house, giving me a sense of familiarity and structure, keeping some of me together. Toto is the small things I hold onto that I feel I have some sense of control over; visiting everyday at the hospital, buying anything I can think of that might seem appetizing for someone who really doesn't want to eat, sending mundane text messages to anyone and everyone I could think of wanting even the smallest update on the current situation. In the meantime, I watch everything else through this crappy little window. A broken washing machine, dirty dishes in the sink, even eating a regular meal fly past this window reminding me for just a moment that there's something else I'm forgetting to do.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

I'm taking a day off today though. I'm talking a lot with my husband. I'm trying to land my house in Oz, and walk down that crazy yellow brick road until I find myself back in Kansas again. I've received so many supportive emails, phone calls, and text messages, each one with love for me but more importantly with love for Loren. Each one is so very much appreciated. Each one saying, "If there is anything I can do, let me know." To you all I say, keep doing what you're doing. Support and love Loren, his friends, his family, and yourself. Keep sending those messages, if even through your thoughts. I'm realizing more and more that it's not me going to the hospital everyday, it's not finding things to buy for him, it's not sending mundane updates and trying to feel like I can have control over this situation that's going to help him. It's not helping anyone, not even myself. It's me loving him, loving my friends, loving my family, and taking care of myself that will help him the most. I encourage you to do the same. Trust me, it's easier said than done.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

I question whether or not writing this blog is the right thing to do. It seems a bit contrived. If Loren reads it, I don't think he'll mind (do you Lojo?). If anything, it helps me to write it down and see things in a tangible fashion. It could probably use a bit more satire. I could tell you about the male nurse named Jamie who won the title of "Most Cliche Person of the Week". Or I could tell you about the patient I over heard yelling at her nurse because they offered her a nicotine patch in lieu of a cigarette (for some reason smoking's not allowed in hospitals), and she's "No damn quitter..." so why would thy offer her a patch? Or I could tell you about going to Chris' messy house last night, sitting on the floor with Lucas, looking around at the most unlikely group of people who I am so lucky to be so close with, watching "Adventure Times" and enjoying each other in a new way. But I guess I should keep it simple, like my mantra today.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Sincerely,
h.