This blog is usually dedicated to art-related subjects. It’s
going to get pretty personal for a while. I hope to reconnect to art as we go
along, but life doesn’t exist in a vacuum, and art is often pushed around by
events, and the blog is going to be the easiest way for me to communicate for a while. So please bear with me, skip ahead or come back later when I hope there
will be less pain and more paintings.
Like a lot of people I joked about the end of the world, or
at least a big change, due for December 21, 2112 according to the old Mayan
calendar.
I did not expect my own world to crash about my shoulders.
In the middle of a routine trip to
the art supply store, I had a seizure. I didn’t know what it was until the
doctor told me later; I thought I was just having a weird spell. But it was
scary enough to get me to the ER, and begin the sequence of events that led to
a fairly quick diagnosis of a tumor on my brain.
You can never prepare for hearing something like that. Denial
comes fast. You must have mistaken me for
someone who has time for that. Your tests are wrong. Surely it is benign, if it
does in fact exist. I have too much to do to have cancer—could we reschedule
that for another year? I’m supposed to be on an airplane in 6 days. You must
have the wrong person.
Unfortunately, all the denial in the world changed nothing.
The thing was/is still in my head.
On the 26th the doctors performed a needle biopsy.
Just a little needle, didn’t sound too bad. Well, except for that whole
drilling through the skull part. There had been a fair amount of discussion
about the bad position of the tumor, which was located on the motor control
area for mobility of the left side of my body. I’d lost use of my left arm and
leg in the initial seizure, but it came back. When I woke up from surgery,
though, it was gone again. The arm came back but I haven’t been able to regain
feeling or control of my leg, so cannot walk.
You look for the good stuff. It didn’t affect my ability to think, reason, or speak. I immediately
had asked how far away it was from the creativity center, and they said quite a
ways. I’m right-handed. I will paint
again.
Three days in neurological ICU was not something I ever want
to do again. The hospital staff was great, but everything else was awful.
Getting out to await biopsy results became a huge goal.
It took almost no time to become aware what wonderful
friends and family I have. I knew
I had the best husband in the world but he proves it again hundreds of times a
day. Support and company from
family and friends kept me from feeling abandoned.
Going Home
Going home was terrifying. It is hard to comprehend what
immobility does to you. Every day, every hour, of those first few days brought
such huge challenges, it was exhausting beyond belief. Still recovering from
the surgery, learning how to live in my house in this condition has been
overwhelming.
We live in a one-story house with no stairs. I thought
navigating using a walker and the fling-and-drag foot method of locomotion
that currently passes for walking would be doable, if not easy. The first real
obstacle came with the realization that the door openings to both bathrooms
were three inches narrower than the walker. What were those people thinking?
How could anyone not make such a simple measurement in advance? How could I
have lived here ten years and not known?
Looking at several upcoming months of chemo and radiation,
and not being able to anticipate how much my motor controls might fluctuate
from bad to worse to better, it also became obvious there was no way I could
get into a shower. So, in the
space of a few days, the house became a remodeling zone. We have a wonderful
friend who stepped forward to become the general contractor, and in just a few
more days will have a new handicap accessible bathroom.
Meanwhile the biopsy results came back. Not as good as we’d
hoped. Okay, way worse.
You look at something like this and every step is a choice.
Fight or give up? I choose fight. The word “treatable” has such a nicer ring
than “terminal.” Fight it. Chemo it, radiate it, starve it. Eradicate it and
move on. I have too much to do and to live for, to give in or give up. I’m fighting.
Meet the Steroid Witch
I’ve been able to reduce the number of drugs I’m taking moment,
but the two biggies remaining for months to come are steroids to reduce the
swelling around the tumor, and anti-seizure medicine.
The steroids are really important and really wicked. The big
side effects seem to be nausea, thirst, sleeplessness and rage. I call the rage
the Steroid Witch.
In spite of everything going on, most of the time I maintain
a fairly even keel, a determination to get through this, and am always working
on a positive attitude. But I’ve learned to hear the steroid witch coming.
The witch is in a fury, flying easily off the handle at the
unfairness of it all. She brings with her vicious
hot flashes that fan the flames of rage, and she can appear without a second’s
notice. The steroid witch uses bad language, has come close to
throwing things, and is generally an unpleasant person with whom I have almost nothing
in common. But she keeps showing up and using my mouth! I’m hoping she will learn to behave
better soon.
Art Calls
I’m itching to paint, but I think I will start with drawing.
Now that I can focus a little, I think a sketchbook, pencils, charcoal, would
be just right.
For several years, one of my New Year’s goals has been to
draw more. Looks like that may really happen in 2013. I’m interested to see how
the act of observation and drawing helps exercise my brain. Gotta keep those
connections open. If the foot won’t talk to me, I’ll focus on the hands
for a while.
My favorite painting subject is usually the landscape. Can’t
see much of that from the part of the house where I’m spending my time. But
I’ve got vases of flowers, and I think I will draw those, along with some still
life objects. I'll post pics when I can.
The Best Laid Plans
This last summer, we had a long string of back to back
workshops. At the end, when we were en route home, I spent a lot of time
thinking about what I wanted for 2013. I decided I wanted to take a year to
travel and teach a little less, to work on my own painting, and to develop new
skills and ideas.
It’s also a convention year for IAPS (International Association of Pastel
Societies). That takes a lot of my time as we get close to the convention. I
worked out a good year-long plan for incorporating painting into everything else,
and then began revising my five-year plan.
Looks like I’ll get that year at home, but with chemo and radiation infringing on the painting time I had planned. I guess I won’t know until I get into it how much I can
bring to focus for art in order to push forward. But I am going to paint, one
way or another.
Here were my broad 2013 goals as of December 20:
1.
Spend more painting time at home, both studio
and plein air; draw more
2.
Take frequent 2-3 day painting trips with Bill
so we get good time together painting and having fun.
3.
Work on series of daily paintings to focus and
sharpen skills; every day for 30 days, several times
4.
Continue to work on making the 2013 IAPS
convention the best ever
5.
Give more time to the New Mexico Art League
board projects
7.
Organize workshops for following year(s)
8.
Find ways to spend more time with family
Here is my list now:
Beat cancer.
See above list.
Updates to follow as I can. I can't take phone calls and my ability to respond may be sporadic, but I hope to keep in touch as well as possible.
-Maggie