Blogging has its own little community. A person starts a blog and shares it with his or her friends. Then, that person checks out the links on his or her friends’ blogs and finds that he or she is suddenly checking out several blogs. This happened to me.
At first, I found it amusing with his stories, giveaways, and tremendous support of his readers. His readers weren’t supporting his weight loss effort, however. No, they were supporting his and his wife’s fight against her cancer. Many of the reader comments carry the message, “WIN SUSAN,” along with supporting comments and stories of people who have been touched by cancer. While I’ve not been closely touched by cancer, I’ve been engrossed in Elden and Susan’s story because of their tremendous love for each other. It is a beautiful thing, indeed.
Last weekend, Elden gave us good news that Susan’s condition showed “dramatic improvement” (Have Some Pie). Many of the readers, me included, were very happy to read those words. We were happy for Susan. We were happy for Elden. I think we were even happy that we wouldn’t lose Susan. Very few of us even know Elden and Susan, yet they’ve become a part of our lives through a little bicycling blog about a fat cyclist. Go figure.
Today, the Fat Cyclist readers read a post that is mostly likely the beginning of the end (Getting the Ending Right). Today, we found out that Susan is in worse shape than we had hoped. She is experiencing confusion and memory loss and it has prompted Elden to contact Hospice. Upon reading this post, many of us were in tears. I found myself going through Kleenex faster than a kid goes through M&Ms. At this point, I really didn’t know what to say. I just didn’t knowâ€¦period. Loss does this, even if it is only anticipated.
I, like over 300 other readers, managed to comment, even when I just didn’t know:
â€œSo weâ€™re switching to hospice now, and the emphasis of the medication Susan takes will be on blocking the fear and confusion sheâ€™s feeling.â€
Wow. There really is nothing I can say. I think youâ€™ve done the right thing for Susan. Youâ€™ve done everything you possibly could with the knowledge and resources youâ€™ve been given. This whole journey youâ€™ve shared with us is proof that your family has been blessed a thousand times over simply because of the incredible love you have for one-another. Unfortunately, all journeys must come to an end.
I mourn for you. I pray for you.