I’ve been struggling with chemo for the past month and a half. It hasn’t been a picnic. I fight, it fights back. I zig….it zags. Like some crazy knuckleball pitcher, neither he, the catcher or the batter know where that ball is going to end up.
I think I’ve been pretty patient, trying to get my body to heal and “take it”. Everyone keeps saying, “Stay positive…stay positive.” Hell, staying positive is for crazy people. As a human being, it would be wrong to stay positive ALL the time. That’s just not balanced, is it? Having a good cry sort of cleans it all out. (There’s been a lot of ‘cleaning’ around this house, that’s for sure.)
All of this shit (literally) has kept me from painting, and that’s frustrating. Either I’m throwing up (from one end or the other), sleeping, at tests and doc appointments or trying to heal through some excellent massage therapists and collaborative medicine gurus (love them).
ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!
Today, I just wanted one normal day…to cook my family some dinner and actually be able to stay up and watch them eat it…and paint. Something…..freakin’ ANYTHING for that matter.
Most of the day, I spent making a delicious roasted organic, free-range (read ‘break-the-bank-expensive’) chicken with all the fixin’s. And all that time in the kitchen, I was totally distracted by the sunlight in my front window backlighting some organic red pears. Their shape….the colour…the light….all just finally BROKE me. So I ditched the nap this afternoon and painted! YAH HOOEY!
Now wait a minute. It wasn’t that easy. It was emotional, and painful. Three little pears beating me down, the light – challenging me to a dual and the paint, driving me crazy with it’s juicy colour. My arm just isn’t what it was, and tons of physio and exercise are helping, but it can’t get there fast enough for me. What I learned is that sometimes, you just push through the pain and the goop, and enjoy it. This wasn’t a “let’s paint a fantastic painting that will live for all time” event. This was….”let’s see if I CAN paint, and just get something done.”
Well, I’d say it was a success. There’s a painting, anyhow. And a hearty chicken dinner will hit the table in a few minutes after I hit the Tramadol. (Oh…and a blogpost!)
Screw you, chemo. Three organic pears beat your poisonous butt.