Several friends who are also survivors have shared variants of “There will be silver linings to all of this,” and I have been on the lookout. They’re not hard to find: I have, above all, slowed down. My tendency to fill every moment with stimulation and activity has been tamped way down – I no longer feel the need to fill every weekend with cycling and kayaking and photography outings, and am discovering the joy of unstructured time, which can then be filled with things like, you know, actually reading a book for a change, or listening to an album in its entirety. I’ve found time for collage, for chipping away at the “Staycation” todo list, etc.
But one of the most important silver linings that has brought me peace and joy has been the stream of art gifts that people in my life have shared, and I wanted to re-share those with you here.
First, my brother John, who undertook an incredible project. At the start of my treatment, I received a handmade card with a collaged cover. Inside, quotations from various sources – inspirational, Buddhistic, or from his own thoughtful mind. A message of strength to support me through this difficult passage.
The next day, another arrived. Then another. And another. I soon realized that he had committed to creating a piece of hand-made inspirational art every single day, to share his love and to encourage me to stay strong and resilient. I have been blown away daily by his incredible tenacity in delivering this stack of beautiful cards. Thank you so much John – your project means more to me than you could possibly know.
Next, to our beautiful kid Millie, who created this powerful abstract painting, which is now framed and hanging in my “sick room.”
The day I had my first biopsy, the doctor also ran a camera up my nose and down my throat to glimpse the cancerous tonsil from above. The image was chaotic to my untrained eye, but I was able to see the mottled top surface of the tonsil and its messed-up surface texture of cancerous flesh.
I picture the agglomeration of dots near the top of Millie’s piece as a representation those cells, with the black mass beneath it as an iceberg of darkness below the surface – the real danger. But on whole, an image of hope and promise, that all of this will soon be ushered out and ultimately evaporated. I love to stare into Millie’s painting and imagine the “threat dots” being pushed out, brushed away, disappeared.
In my mind, there’s more to this image – I also see this collection of dots on the top surface of this succulent, which is potted in our back yard. I’ve always thought they looked a bit like stubbed toes, but now I only see them as cancerous tonsils, the top dots representing freshly nuked cells waiting to be sloughed off and blown away. The succulent, the top-down image of my tonsil, and the dots in this painting are all connected for me.
This theme will return, stay tuned.
Thank you for this incredible piece Millie – it has provided inspiration that helps when things are at their most difficult.
Finally, this beautiful hand-painted card from my work friend Rosie, who has become my co-conspirator in organizing hikes with the work crew. Featuring Temmo – my constant hiking companion, ready for anything. Thank you so much Rosie for this thoughtful slice of joy.
Other Outpourings
The other “silver lining” that keeps on giving has been the stream of messages from friends, family, and co-workers that arrives daily – via email, text, Facebook and Messenger, blog comments, phone calls, offers to visit, reading and listening suggestions, daily humor… the daily messaging can be a lot to keep up with, but it’s been wonderful to experience how a lifetime of creating relationships plays out when you find yourself in need of this kind of soul food. Thank you to everyone who has reached out in this way. I’m sorry if I haven’t always been great at responding to everything, but I’m grateful for all of your words, advice, and support. Much love.