They Say It's Your Birthday...

December 29, 1951

Wow, I do not think I've skipped two months here for quite a while.  I haven't been doing much art, other than a few small collages in a sketchbook, nothing I wanted to share.

I have been considering my birthday, though.  Most of my life I've been grumpy about the date I was born, right between Christmas and New Year.  Since my birthday is so late in the year, I usually think of myself as older than I actually am. I was born in 1950, so, this year I turned sixty-eight at the end of December, but thought of myself as that age most of the year.  I have the usual complaints. I often got my birthday presents on Christmas, since everyone was already together. I don't like it that so many the celebrations are lumped together in December, a month not known for its good weather in Wisconsin. When I wanted to go out to a nice restaurant out of town, often the roads were snow covered and slippery.

Of course there are some good things too - I had a closet full of warm clothing and socks. I never had to go to school or work on my birthday. Often out of town family and friends visit at this time of year.

But this year, even though we didn't have a party, and there were no gifts, I was very very happy.  I wasn't altogether sure I'd be alive for this birthday.  My cancer diagnosis in 2017 turned my illusions about control and certainty upside down.  I still feel pretty good, but my cancer is slowly progressing.  I've had two different rounds of chemo that were ineffective, and radiation that helped well, but only for a few months.  I was excited to learn that a Milwaukee hospital has two experimental drug trials for my kind of cancer, so I did all the testing and paperwork for one only to be disqualified the day before I was supposed to start treatment.  I applied for the other drug trial this week.

This year on December 29th my dear husband and I went out to the local Olive Garden, had a nice meal, came home to watch a movie on television, and called it a day.  That was just fine by me, since slippery roads weren't a problem, and I felt good enough to eat my dinner and drink a glass of wine. Just having an average day, not counting the nearly 100 birthday greeting on Facebook, and sleeping comfortably in my own bed, was all I could ask for.  

No party or gifts required.

More of the Same

charcoal - 20 minute pose

Monday evening was another figure drawing session, enjoyable for me, though I don't think our model was feeling very well.  This was my favorite drawing from the session, though I don't especially like how her arm looks in my drawing.

I begin my new chemotherapy sessions on Friday.  Since I optimistically thought I wouldn't be doing chemo again, I had my port removed in April, and now I must have a new one implanted, also Friday. I have some new hats and a new wig set to go, but must admit that I am not looking forward to the medical routine, bottles of medication, and losing my hair once again.  However, since this is apparently the only tool available in the box, I guess we'd better get using it.

I hope I can continue with my Monday evening drawing sessions.

Enyo

I've been attending a summer figure drawing group for several years, enjoying the pretty drive on back roads, drawing a couple hours, and treating myself to frozen custard afterward.  I couldn't attend last summer because of my surgery and recovery, but this summer I am enjoying myself.  I'm keeping it very simple, just a few sheets of newsprint or slightly nicer drawing paper, vine charcoal, and a kneaded eraser.  The model last night was a lovely young woman; my drawing her does not do her justice.

My health news continues to be disappointing.  I am not a candidate for further surgery or radiation, so we're going with the chance that a different chemotherapy regimen will shrink my new spot, and extend my life.  I find that I cannot hold that thought for long without panicking.  So, I concentrate on things right now that give me pleasure - watering my flowers, drawing and painting, meeting with friends, drinking wine.  I have been mourning the thought of losing my new hair, which after months of being bald, gives me great happiness.  So, yesterday I went to a photo shoot (with my hair), and I plan to use the spiffy new not-bald photos on social media and at the gallery where I show some of my artwork.  It's OK.  I have hats and scarves.

Right now, staying positive is an act of self preservation.

New Portrait and More of the Same

Coh-O-Ha, 8x10 inches, colored pencil

It has turned dog days hot here in southern Wisconsin, stuffy, humid, and pretty much awful in my upstairs studio.  Nevertheless, I did finish this colored pencil piece for Julia Kay's Portrait Party online.  I made it to figure drawing this past week as well, which was very enjoyable.

I also had a series of medical appointments the past week which confirmed that I have a recurrence of my cancer.  I've had two biopsies (one good, one not), a CT scan and an MRI, and a consultation.  No decisions have been made yet on treatment.  That has to wait until after the 4th of July.  

Looks like it's going to be another crummy summer.

One Day at a Time

Martin, colored pencil, 8x10 inches

I just finished a new portrait in colored pencil, just in my sketchbook, for the online group, Julia Kay's Portrait Party.  This group has been very inspiring to me, and I've enjoyed being challenged to do my best work.  This is Martin Beek, whose paintings I have admired for quite a while. I have another started, but life has gotten in the way.

What a roller coaster of emotions the last year has brought, thanks to last year's cancer diagnosis.  For the past three months I have been on what I called my cancer vacation, since in March my CT scans showed that radiation had apparently shrunk my abdominal spots, and eliminated some gynecological ones.  So, no oncology treatment for a few months.  I got my cataracts fixed, and we went on two cruises. I've had two haircuts, which made me improbably happy.

Then, in May, some symptoms returned, and I had a biopsy which did not indicate cancer.  This week I had another CT scan, which came back looking OK, and still another biopsy, which did not come back looking OK.  For a day I felt confident, and now today, not so much again.

I am learning that this is what life with cancer is like.  Sometimes hopeful, and other times terrifying.  Sometimes both in the same day.

So, now I have another whole raft of medical appointments, and I do not know what the doctors will plan for me.  I'm not at all sure how many Monday evening figure drawing sessions I'll get to this summer, how many times I'll be able to visit up north, or if I'll be able to, as I hoped, write and lead a new cemetery tour featuring some fascinating local people.  In short, I cannot really make firm plans.

But I should be able to draw more.  I just need to keep focusing on what I can control, and take it one day at a time.

Updates

It has been more than a month since I've posted here.  Most of my life has been centered on health issues.  I had a biopsy on a suspicious spot in my abdomen that happily turned out to be benign, so the plan here is to forget about cancer as much as possible until my next checkup in June.  My hair is growing in and looks sort of radically stylish, and I think the nerve damage in my feet from chemo is improving, little by little. 

With the scary health concerns on the back burner for now, I've been doing more of what I enjoy, reading, getting outside, and playing around in the studio. This little eight by eight in inch oil was actually based on an online demonstration. The idea of the demo was that its easy to use large brushes on small paintings.  I went out and got myself a no. 18 bright brush (similar to a flat but with shorter bristles) and gave it a go.  To tell the truth the big brush was only for the background; the details on the orange were done with smaller brights, sized 10 and 12.  Still, it was a way I don't usually work, and following the steps on the online demo was interesting.

Other than these things, I'm looking forward to getting my cataracts fixed this month.  Little by little it is getting harder to see in low light and drive a night, to say nothing of reading subtitles on foreign films.  And when we go on our Caribbean cruise in April I want to see as well as possible. 

New Reality

I have gone back and forth about posting my new reality here, but have finally decided to go ahead with it.  Ever since I began this blog, after retiring from three decades of teaching, I have used the site to record images of beauty in my every day life, records of our travels, and some of the art I have created.  I hope to still do these things, although there is a new issue that has taken over most of my time, and that is my health.

In April I was diagnosed with uterine cancer, and on June 16th I had surgery at UW Madison hospital.  After four days there I returned home to recuperate, and consider how my life will be changing.  I still do not have very much energy, though I am up and about, eating, reading, petting the cat.  I know that soon I will be meeting with new doctors to begin chemotherapy, and that will be another different set of challenges - not the least of which will be that I will lose all my hair.

But in a real way I am more anxious about who this new person will be, the one who no longer leads groups of people on historic cemetery tours, who has to be careful about what she eats and drinks, who requires rides to numerous medical appointments, who suddenly throws a whole new anxious feeling over meetings with friends.  One who is a little jealous of other people's lunch meetings, field trips with grandchildren,  time spent gardening.

I also am concerned about my art.  I haven't felt brave enough to draw or paint yet, partially because moving around has been uncomfortable, but also because I wonder what will become of all of the notebooks, sketchbooks, watercolors, collages and other paintings.  I sell little of my work, so it stacks up in drawers and closets.  What will become of it?

So many questions.

But it is summer, and there is beauty.  My lilies are in full bloom in the yard.  Fireflies light the evening lawn.  People drop by with baked goods and flowers.  In many ways the good things of life are still there to be enjoyed.  I hope to keep appreciating them.