the hanged man


Hi, I’m Ian, or at least that’s the body I still inhabit. I lay here in my house tonight, the first time in almost two weeks. The person that walked out of here back then is not exactly the person who came back.

I still need to take two breaths for each sentence, and even walking across the room is difficult, so I’m going to save all the grisly details until Monday. And afterwards, I promise not to make this blog all about one subject, even if that one subject wanted to kill me.


But here’s one thing I need to tell all of you: every email, every text, every note, and every story contributed to me laying here tonight with no tubes sticking out of my body. I never thought such a thing possible, either that it would be so emotionally affecting, or that so many of you would care, but it is true. Even when I was read the list of Facebook “likes” or a wish from someone I have never met, it was real, it helped actually.

I am humbled beyond adjectives by all of you. I’m humbled by my wife’s writing on these pages, many entries I could only read fully days after they were posted. I’m humbled by the doctors who saved me, and the nurses who assuaged me. And a tiny bit of me is proud of my own body for beating back the visiting team, late in the third quarter.

It takes a village, to be sure, but this one had many villages, spread throughout the country like bronchioles, and while my lungs heal, I’m sending out a low hum of love to all of you everywhere.