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.

Susie

Hannah says she sometimes thinks of Loren’s brain cancer and our family’s emotional response, as a hard workout. Just when you think you can’t spin another minute, you do and you become stronger.
Wow, this is what I needed to hear this evening. Especially since I believe I’ve conquered the mental strategies of a non-professional athlete.
This week brought strenuous challenges, this workout became much harder. Loren’s higher dosage of steroids seemed to affect him in a powerful way. He had/has moments of loud declarations such as “I AM THE BOSS, I AM IN CHARGE.” This is a new soap box. He left the house for a night to be returned home by the kids.
Other times he seems young, innocent and has BIG BIG BIG plans for the Nancarrows. So much fun to see this passion and excitement and yet unnerving; to walk into the house after being away  for an hour, to find the shower upstairs running with no one inside, melted bees wax all over the kitchen counters and floors from his candle making projects and Loren happy as ever, assuring me it will all be better than before. I’ve always believed him.
He’s happy, he’s brave, he’s confident and plans to ‘beat this thing’ as he says, living each day to the fullest, creating these gorgeous Tellandsia (Airplanes) creations, using the sea shells we’ve collected for 30 years and other special pieces; all memories and ever changing.
He’s made all of the candles in the house, reorganized and organized the kitchen (mostly at 2:00 and 3:00 am. ). Always hopping over here, lots of banging, crashing, breaking, spills. Loren said one way to describe how he’s feeling is if you think about going from ages 40 to 80 years old overnight. The world continues to whoosh by; fast cars, texts, calls, noise, conversation and one finds it just impossible to keep up the pace.
Right now we’re listening to Neil Young’s ‘Don’t Let It Bring You down‘ as we both cry. He wants to make a difference, help others and hands me a stone with “DREAM” written on it. I am dreaming.
This intense, unrelenting workout requires emotional adjustments while engaging with Loren, the medical field, police, our children.
It’s unpredictable, breathtaking, funny, tearful, loud, sad and full of unknowns.
Hannah clued me in again today when she said ‘you have to recalibrate your brain after spending a long time with Dad.’ She’s right, I find myself talking nervously and stuttering for the first hour “outside.”
So, this week I wasn’t sure if I could spin another second. The brain cancer workout requires constant recalibration, compassionate listening.
He’s the happiest he’s been in a long time, making us laugh, smile, pause.
I’m learning how to live with this “new” Loren. Wanting to protect and defend him from unkind, unaware people — and yet trying not to be his mother.
Thursday he’s receiving the Journalist of the Year award, a huge award and so deserved. He’s been preparing his speech for the banquet. His life long friends and many newer life long friends are coming in from out of town. It’s a sold out crowd. He’s so so so excited. I’m nervous and okay. This is Loren, this is brain cancer, this is real life. He most likely will pull it off like the pro he’s always been. It could be disastrous, it could be sad, it could be newsworthy.  YEP… leaning in and climbing this mountain.
We’re getting our workouts in, sometimes with angels of energy spreading our wings, tuning into our spirits, our resiliency. Realizing we’re each here to help others, to lift one another when we’ve fatigued, smile because it opens us to happiness and lean into the discomfort so when we’re through it, we’re stronger.
This support gifted by all of you, health experts, Scripps Memorial Hospital La Jolla, Susan Taylor, Dr. Tom Chippendale, Dr. Ilana Schraibman, our family, Dr Fred Spiegler, friends Sunnie and Bill Toone and Judy and Chuck Wheatley, Neighbors, acquaintances and even amazing conversations with strangers at the most appropriate times will forever be remembered.
Thank you. I’m sorry this is too long.
This is where we have to be. I have faith.
Much love and gratitude to you from the Nancarrow Family.
What a Workout,
Susie