Introducing . . . Sofa King!

This is a blog about Bob's journey (again) with cancer. The first time was three decades ago, when he was a young boy, a battle with Hodgkin's disease, long before I knew him. This time, it's sarcoma. I am Jen, his wife. A spectator on the sidelines, sometimes cheerleader, supposedly Bob's anchor, his rock, his pillar of strength in times of need (whoever had that great idea has the wrong woman in the job. I fly off the handle, I get irate and impatient. I cry like a baby in the ER. I have been known to scream at doctors and call them ugly names when they aren't helping my husband. Not sure if that's the kind of "strength" Bob needs right now . . .). This blog might not be necessary, or only necessary for a very short time—I can only hope and pray that's the case, that this will all blow over quickly, and he'll be up and running again soon. Literally and figuratively.

Right now, we know very little about Bob's situation, the prognosis, the course of treatment he will have. We don't even know 100% that this is truly sarcoma. On December 23rd, after having a biopsy on a mass found by an MRI, the oncologist said, "the results are consistent with a sarcoma." The powers that be at Mayo Clinic will decide for certain.

"Sofa King" has become kind of a joke between us: Bob once saw a sign in a co-worker's office that read: "I am sofa king we todd it." I abhor the "retarded" reference, but we kinda ran with the "sofa king" part, and now everything has become "sofa king" this and "sofa king" that, in our world. As in, doctors can be sofa king stupid, but Dr. Shafiq at United is sofa king amazing. Or, it is sofa king cold outside . . . Bob's also become sort of a Sofa King himself, as for the past two months, he's been having a very difficult time walking, sitting or lying on his back; thus, he's made the futon in the basement his bed and center of his universe. Yes, the futon is not "technically" a sofa, but . . . sofa king close.

Writing helps me process things, to "get it all out," work through the issues, document the obstacles, rant about the frustrations and sing praises to the little miracles that occur in our daily lives. I'm better at writing things down in black and white, rather than verbalizing—I tend to be a tad reactive and maybe more than a little emotional with the spoken word, and am hoping blogging about this experience will help me keep a better grip on what's happening. Keep me grounded, a little more in control. We'll see about that. It also keeps me busy, keeps me out of Bob's hair, keeps me from going downstairs every ten minutes and ask if he's doing okay, or if I can get him anything.

I also see this blog as a way to connect with family, friends and others; a "go-to" place to share updates, information. We've been down a similar path 2 1/2 years ago, when Bob had his heart attack (actually not similar at all, as it was a completely different medical issue, but I guess we're finding it's all entwined and entangled in some way or another), and used Caring Bridge to keep everyone in the loop about Bob's heart attack. Caring Bridge is an amazing resource, a miracle of a service to help people keep in contact with friends and family during a health crisis. However, at this time, Bob felt that Caring Bridge is a bit too "serious" for his situation (in his words, "Isn't that just for people who die?" I said, "I used it for you when you had your heart attack and you didn't die then. So, NO. It is not just for people who die."). He momentarily toyed with the idea of hopping on the Facebook bandwagon, but I was quick to tell him that f-book is not the place to share this kind of information—Facebook is transient, innane and superficial. I've tried blogging a few times in the past, but never felt I had much of anything important to write about. Now, unfortunately, I do. Thus, the Sofa King blog was born.