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My last short fiction instructor told us not to write about cancer. "It's been done," she said. Well, the hell with that. I learned in the last three weeks that I have stage III breast cancer. Writing, painting, and assorted other arts are how I process stuff, in addition, of course, to long conversations with friends. These conversations have begun in earnest these recent days, but I realized my Facebook page in particular was in danger of becoming a medical-update site. I do not want that. My life is still going to be about more than cancer, as much as that may not seem possible right now. Also, I don't want to alienate friends who are not ready to walk this particular valley with me at this time. For example, one elderly friend who called to cheer me up this week can't even handle the "c-word," and there is no way she will be up for any truly frank discussion of what's about to happen here. So she is advised to keep in touch with me via Facebook. People who are comfortable with the c-word, honest discussion and occasional cursing are welcome to join me here.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Getting better all the time

I just managed to run a whole mile.  Very slowly, but I did it. This hasn’t happened in months.  I couldn’t do it last week.  Couldn’t do it two days ago.  So I continue to get better.
                I hadn’t realized how messed up my brain truly was until I started feeling better.  “Chemo fog” is an understatement. There are big gaps in my memory, especially from last spring. Whole conversations that I apparently had are gone. There were church committee meetings that I myself led, and I can’t remember what we did or said. Now, that is embarrassing.
                Have you been in your kitchen when a light bulb has blown out in your fixture, but you don’t notice for a while? And suddenly it occurs to you, boy, it’s dim in here. Well, it has been dim like that in my own mind. But slowly the gray cells are coming back online, and I’m feeling slightly less out of it as time goes by.
                It’s been hard to multitask at all, to hold too many threads of information at once. It’s like how my old PC grinds down to a halt when I have too many windows open, and there isn’t enough CPU to go around. Some information goes to the wrong place. Some just gets lost.
                Under normal circumstances, I like to paint and draw and do glass lampwork. For a while there, I stopped doing all of this, completely. I couldn’t think that hard. (Side note:  it was interesting to learn that I think hard when I do art; artist friends of mine say they stop thinking actively at all.) Anyway, a couple months ago, I started drawing again. But I could only handle pencil or pen, strictly black-and-white. I could not keep too many categories in my head at once. I could handle value, and line, and general design, but not color.  Too much to process. But a few weeks ago, suddenly I could cope with color, as well. I have yet to sit down at my torch and try the glass, but I look forward to that day.
From my recent black-and-white period.

from last week

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