As we sit in a quiet sushi bar, Loren’ s seizure goes on longer than usual. I can hear the bones snapping in his hand, the twitching hits all of the joints and fingers in his right hand, filling me with a sense of hopelessness and worry. I hold his out of control hand and arm, while the sushi chef tries to avert his eyes…they’re bulging out of his head.
Loren sees the fear in my eyes, my tears and says “no panicking allowed, these are the easy times.”
Loren is a man: a real MAN…brave, courageous, true and strong.
Not the standard man…he loves gardening, making jam, cooking, writing, discussing politics at inappropriate places, growing organic food, raising chickens, cows and turkeys. We used to raise our own turkeys every Thanksgiving. Like I said, he’s not the standard man. He’s ahead of his time, just as my mom was ahead of hers; with compost piles, recycling aluminum cans, gardens, conserving everything…I grew up with 15-20 second showers. It truly is long enough.
He’s been my best friend for almost 30 years. He’s imperfect, he’s a challenge. He’s a loyal partner, a father who cares, an individual who believes in standing up for what’s right. He’s my best friend…this sounds so smarmy…but that’s who he is.
After about 7 minutes, the seizure moves to Loren’s face and eye. They begin as the hand did, slight movements at first, ending in violent and uncontrollable spasms.
The past two weeks have been filled with doctor’s appointments. The oncologist, the neurologist, the psychiatrist and hospice; yes hospice. There is no giving up in the Nancarrow Code of Ethics. There is an acceptance and resolve that we didn’t have even last week.
Loren is determined to get better. This week, his entire right side is weak. Without help, he’s unable to climb a step. Without help, he’s unable to button a shirt or pants. These are heartbreaking and life changing times. We have so many things to be grateful for. I believe we will be with each other again. Our lives are our lessons and when we’ve completed the lesson, or completed what we’re here to do, we move on. So easily typed… scripted… Watching this confident, opinionated, smart, passionate man, go through this disease with such grace and composure, physically altered but emotionally strong, challenges my beliefs to the core. Almost two weeks ago, he was preparing for his journalism award, with the ever-powerful steroids at the helm. The steroids had been increased because of swelling in his brain. We had a very confident, strong, WHACKY man to live with. With the steroids, came a sense of grandeur and strength that can’t be supported for any length of time, by his family, friends or his own body… they eventually fail to work. The goal is to get the swelling under control and reduce the steroids slowly.
When it comes to the brain everything is a shade of grey… nothing is black or white. Most healthy people don’t volunteer their precious brains for research… we are in need of research, not to help us necessarily, but to help others behind us. The Nancarrow Project is committed to Loren’s interests in Environment/Conservation Issues, Journalist Integrity and Cancer/Brain Cancer research. We are running as a team in the first annual, 10/20 run, sponsored by the UT in February…please join our team, even if you can’t walk or run it… it’s for a great cause (The American Cancer Society). We’d love to be the biggest team in the race…10 miles, 20 bands!
This is no time to panic, you’re right again honey.
Friends, Family, Neighbors, Pets and Acquaintances, thank you for your support, your love, understanding and compassion, we are forever grateful.
Our German Shepherd Ayla, awakened me a few nights ago… Loren had fallen down at 2:00 AM. Ayla got in my face with a RUFF< RUFF> RUFFRUFF> RUFFRUFF>$%#$#%@#^>RUFF…WAKE UP!
No panicking allowed, these are the easy times.