Magic Moment

After the blood draw, I hung my laundry on the clothesline. Felt like I was back in the 1950's. As we drove out to pick up the shots, the heavens opened up in a downpour. Great soft water rinse. They were so soaked that they never did dry. I thought it was just washing cars that primed the rain clouds.

Yesterday a patient (Ph.D./author/Andrea Bocelli look-alike) wanted an acrylic painting class. We went to Banana Bay for lunch. The handsome Italian owner let us set up our easels on the dining deck. He had stashed some shark and dolphin carcasses out on the edge of the deep water, and was going to fish for eel. He wanted to be in the painting. Giggle. Our eyesight wasn't that good. He was just a speck.

We got into the "zone", and lost in the doing. The afternoon flew by. As I was putting away my paints I glanced at the scene one more time, and held my breath. Four boats had sailed into view at the end of the jetty, and a rainbow appeared above them. I quickly painted them. When I looked up again, the boats were gone.  The rainbow had faded.
He said it was "one of those magic moments".

Tom asked me to post the painting. It was just a quickie, battling the drizzle, wind, tide, sun and clouds.   Certainly not a masterpiece. But the doing was fantastic. So here is a bit of my healing.
I used a very limited palette. Red, blue, yellow (Dick Blick samples), viridian, raw umber and white on canvas paper. (Silly airlines and their weight and size limitations). I did manage to get my easel into my suitcase. There are no art supply stores on the island.

Several patients will be heading home tomorrow. I will miss my new friends.

It is unbelievable - witnessing patients coming to the clinic looking very sick, and in a matter of a week or two they look restored to health. Some folks have titanium femurs and hips from bone cancer, lungs filling up with fluid from mesothelioma, difficulty walking because of neuropathy, breasts and kidneys removed, et al. Almost all of the patients have a family member with them. The K-9 Law Officer is the only other solo act.

I feel better than I have in years. Even my allergies are not bothering me. Only the mosquitoes. For some reason they have decided that I am quite tasty. Maybe it is because I have eaten no meat, just lots of seafood and veggies. Well chocolate and coffee.

I love this Dr.
He said to use Hersheys powdered chocolate. It has no sugar, but lots and lots of vitamin C. Hot chocolate in almond milk before bed. Yum. Much better than the IV vitamin C infusion.
Off I go..........

Well, in a minute. Couldn't figure out why there was so much congestion when we were coming out of the grocery store. Everybody was just standing around. The Bahamians cover their heads when it rains, or stay inside until it stops. They believe that if it rains on your head, you will get in a draft, catch pneumonia, and die.

Wonderful World

George Clooney is on the flat screen. Drool. Yes, I am watching the Oscars.

They just scrolled through the list of movie makers that we lost last year. "It's a Wonderful World" was sung during the film clip. Talented people. Made me ponder.....

What I have learned since I was diagnosed with Stage III breast cancer is, without a doubt, life changing. It pretty much clarifies priorities.

Here in the Bahamas I have met some of the most wonderful people - the staff at the IAT Clinic, and especially, the patients. A few are new patients, but many are back for a "tune-up".  You know, I have lived in ten states, moved over twenty times, worked in varied jobs, and I have never found people so willing to help each other. A real "Pass it Forward" culture. Attitude, it is all about attitude. Wish I could find the words to explain how overwhelming this experience has been. Friday a couple arrived that I met ten years ago, when I was here with my friend Rueben. At least three patients have more than twenty years since their diagnosis. They have really learned how to live!

This charcoal portrait of the nurse's daughter was photographed before I completed it, but you get the idea of where I was going.......

Today I finished two more portraits from life, but haven't downloaded them yet. Five more are waiting in line. And there is an acrylic that is calling to me - to be completed. But I really wish I had my oil paints with me.

During the last three days, patients have driven me to the beach. The sound, sight, smell, and caress of the wind is  so healing. Love it.

Gotta get up in six hours. They keep telling us to get a lot of sleep. I just don't want to miss anything.
G'nite

No Tatas For Me

Too soon after surgery I went to get fitted with tatas (prothesis, aka fake boobs). To the touch they feel like the real deal - better than a blow-up doll. They should be - at $350. each, compliments of Medicare. Only one breast had cancer, but Medicare paid for both to be lobbed off, in the name of balance. They also pay for six bras a year at about $60 each.

"Why are they so heavy?" I asked. "To hold the bra down" was the reply. So I have to hang these weighty tatas from my shoulders, worry about chinning myself with them, or pulling up bra straps? "Why?" "In case you bump into a man it will feel like you have breasts", was the answer. Can't remember the last time my breasts ran into an unsuspecting man. They weren't so perky after fighting gravity for seventy-three years. Well, maybe sixty years. I didn't get my first bra until I was thirteen.

Actually it is kind of nice to speak to a man, and get eye contact. They can have intelligent conversations when they aren't distracted.

Silly me, I think it is unfair to seduce a man with fakery. If I were a man and became enamored with a woman, unwrapped her, and found more things coming off than clothes, finding no luscious breasts, no tempting nipples, only a 23" scar running from arm pit to arm pit, I would run out the door with, or without, my tighty whities.

Of course this may be subject to change, but right now I choose to be honest, and flat chested. It actually feels pretty good. It is easier to stand straighter, and easier to breathe. The lungs don't have to do weight lifting.

Along with my seven other shots today, I had another heat shock therapy shot in the groin. Groan. It stings like a killer bee, but only for a moment. The groin gives it the best access to the lymphatic system. I could feel it working in the lymphatic webbing in my arms. Every once in a while I will feel a little sproing. I imagine that it is the treatment shooting some rogue cancer cell.

E'nuf nonsense for tonight. The island Potcake Dogs barked all night last night. By four o'clock they sounded hoarse. Didn't see even one of them today. Hope they weren't sleeping up for more harmonizing after dark.

The quick charcoal sketch I did of Dr. Burton, while waiting for my shots to be prepared.

the Essence of Herbal

My late hubby suffered through chemo and radiation with the help of MJ. An oncologist said if we could find it, use it. In the middle of the winter of '92 I would get a wheel chair from the nurse, bundle him up, attach the IV chemo to the chair, wheel him outside to smoke some weed. It was the only thing that got him through the nausea, pain, and misery of traditional chemo. The Doc said that if he was allowed, he would prescribe it to all of his cancer patients. I stayed with Stan in the hospital, but when we got home I started baking it in brownies. Then he could eat, sleep, and live life. Dramatic difference in the quality of life.

Since then I have been checking it out. Patients have said - all of the long term survivors they know also used pot on a daily basis. Appetite is key to survival. Dr. Burton used to say that he never lost a "fat one". Now is not the time to lose weight. Thought I might loose my belly fat. Without my boobs I look a bit like TwiddleDee or TwiddleDum.

Arizona voters passed the Medical Marijuana Act and I got a "green card". I can legally possess two and a half ounces, and grow twelve plants in a locked closet. Then the Gov. closed the dispensaries. What's a gal to do?

I walked down 4th Ave. like a druggie looking for a fix, asking everyone that looked like they might know where I could buy some legal pot. Ended up potless and in tears.

It seems that Pot Clubs are legal and patients with green cards can obtain the herb from other patients. There are three clubs in Tucson. What a crock.

Didn't mean to rant, but if you have ever used pot, you know that you are not going to go pillage and plunder, you would be giggling, and eating too much, to bother. Or, even leave the house, for that matter. Or making love, or wishing you had someone to love. You just want to say, "Oh, God".

It certainly needs to legalized. The entire plant is useful. Farmers would benefit. They could sell it for hemp rope, fabric, paper, food, and a gazillion other products. High fructose corn syrup and other corn products will soon be banned, or forgotten. Corn won't be that valuable a product unless it used as fuel. Save the farmers. Cut our dependency on oil. Legalize pot!

Plop. Sound of Saltness jumping off of her soapbox.

Mahi-mahi, and pistachio cake at the yacht club - as the sun was setting over the water. Great fun. People left their pedigrees and pocket-books at the door, so mingling was great sport. Folks were from many US states, the UK, and the Bahamas. Idiot me - they were talking about Long Island, and I began talking about fishing off Long Island NY. It wasn't until later that I realized they were talking about an Island in the Bahamas. Duh?

Painting small is difficult. Big is better when it comes to oil painting. Standing and painting vertically with an easel is my vice of choice. However, small stuff fit in the suitcase. The pool became the model for an easel attempt at a small water color. After all, it was working with color. With marvelous weather and an ocean breeze the time stood still. When I paint I don't have a clue how long an hour is. I keep messing up the times on my shots. I had eight today.

My beeper just went off signaling the last shot of the day. Off I go..................

I'm in Withdrawal

Upon awaking the thought crept into my mind - I am in withdrawal. It has been eleven days since I have drawn or painted anything. I grabbed my charcoal and gray-paper drawing pad on my way out the door While waiting for my shots I sneaked into the conference room and sketched - from a large photo of Dr. Burton. The photo is deteriorating, as photos do. I would love to paint portraits of the Drs. at Iat. Everyone who saw the quick sketch wanted to pose. Tomorrow I will bring my easel and drawing board and do some proper ones from life. Can't wait.

The patients are absolutely amazing. One had ovarian cancer twenty-seven years ago. It had spread to her cervex and vagina. They operated on the young woman, but weren't thorough enough. She developed bone cancer and was told that they had to amputate her leg at the hip. She hadn't told anyone, and at the end of a work day she sat sobbing at her desk. The boss came by, literally took her to the airport immediately, and on to the Bahamas. She didn't have time to pack and literally came with only the clothes on her back. He took her to Dr. Burton's house. He started the treatment immediately. You should see her now. A tall, exotic, gorgeous woman with long wavy black hair. A former model. Her mother is Japanese and was in Hiroshima during the war. All of her children are sterile and all have cancer. The father's German genes gave her the height and curly hair. An absolutely gorgeous woman. She is the official U.S. contact for IAT. I will post her web site later.

Sure, the medical folks among you will say, "oh well, that's just anecdotal." Wish you were here to witness hear these patients first hand. Today there were patients with Hogkins's Lymphoma, Mesotheleoma, Breast Cancer, Kidney cancer, Colo-Rectal cancer, Ovarian and Gone cancer, et al.

Written on the sixteenth. My battery was too low to post last night.
Off I go for more shots.

Don't flush - add a scoop

Let's call him Sam, so he can remain anonymous. So, Sam picked me up this afternoon and we drove toward the East end of the island, to a state park. Made of limestone, the area has sink holes that fill with salt and fresh water. Mary Anne used to scuba dive in the two caves we explored today. Now endangered species call it home - so you are no longer allowed to swim there. Can't tell you how tempting it was. Mary Anne said that when you pass through the area where the salt and fresh water meet you can't see anything. When you go deeper it clears up. So which is on top, the salt or the fresh water? We pondered that awhile.

Coral paths lead to a long bridge over a mangrove swamp on the way to the beach. Sam tossed bread crumbs to a herd of fish. When we started the trek I didn't know about the fish. When he appeared with the bread crumbs I wondered if we were playing Hansel and Gretel.

The needlenose fish looked like a long blue string as they aggressively went after the crumbs. Snappers snapped, Sergeant fish were just cuteness, and the Baracuda lurked, waiting for something better than bread.

Finally, I got to see the water. It's been eleven days, and that was my first glimpse of the turquoise sea. After strolling up and down the beach, we sat and watched the high tide go out. Gotta go back there at low tide. As the water recedes it leaves very unusual markings in the sand. Looks like a photo op to me.

"Don't flush - add a scoop of wood chips to the toilet". Honest, that's what the sign said in the rest room. There was no running water, toilet paper, or paper towels - just hand sanitizer. The scoop was on a chain in a bucket that was attached to the wall. I added.

More patients showed up for tune-ups. Most of them stay in condos on the beach, or in time-shares. A cancer diagnosis really changes your life. These folks are living every minute, and squeeze joy out of even the smallest event.

You know, I said that it was a privilege to be a 24 hour care giver for my hubby when he battled cancer. Now I see that having cancer makes you a part of a very brave and strong group of people. Much to admire.

G'nite