Compartmentalize

 

Lush August Garden

I didn't know that this blog is searchable! 

Recently I got an email from a woman in South America. She was searching for information to help her sister who also has metastatic breast cancer. She figured out how to contact me and we've been in touch a bit.

I wanted to share what I said to her.

Here it is:

The best advise I can give to you is one word:
compartmentalize.

Not sure how this translates into Spanish.
It's kind of a joke in American culture that men can compartmentalize and women can't. Maybe it's the same in your culture. Men seem to be able to keep things separate in their minds - women are more emotional.

I basically don't think about cancer unless I have to.

Since February I have been taking oral chemo - 3 pills twice a day. For 2 weeks, then 1 week without medication. I set my alarm to take them at 7am and 7pm. When the alarm goes off, I take my pills. But then I forget about it. I don't think of myself as a cancer patient. I think of myself as totally healthy. I know it's not really true but in a way it is true.

The secret is to not identify with cancer.
Cancer is to me. I am not cancer.
I try to have as much fun as I can.
I should not drink alcohol but I do because I like it. We have beautiful cocktail glasses and a huge selection of options to make beautiful drinks. I don't drink during the week because I work a lot. But I enjoy the cocktails very much.
I should not eat sugar. But I love cake and chocolate. So I eat it. I don't pay attention to everything I'm told. If it brings me joy, I do it. And don't feel guilty about it.

As best you can, enjoy each day.
We all get sick and die. Cancer just sounds very scary. Our bodies are so strong - and so fragile at the same time.
Don't let cancer get in the way and rob you of your precious life energy.

Feel free to write again.
It's harder, I think, to be the family and friends. For the patient - you get stronger and grown emotionally.

Con amor

Cycle 10

Encaustic photo transfer

 Cycle 10 and I'm going strong. 

3 pills (oral chemo, Capecetabine) twice a day x 2 weeks followed by one week off = 1 cycle.

I was so afraid to start chemo and I am pleasantly surprised that it's mostly OK. At the end of the 2 weeks I start to get tired and go to bed early - I go to bed early anyway but even earlier than usual. I basically follow sunrise and sunset.

The Vix has cut me some slack. If we were in non-Covid times, I'd probably get blood drawn every 3 weeks. But since I'm living in Connecticut, I just go every 6 weeks to a local lab a few days before we talk. It's been a little loose - last time she forgot to order tumor markers. Just checking my agent - I'll "talk" to her August 31 via Zoom so need to remind myself to get to the lab next week!

All good here. Week before last I spent in Chatham with my aunt, my brother John and his family, my bother Mark and sister Amy and her kids. And other cousins floating in and out. Glenn called it the Summer of Love Camp. That about sums it up. We kicked my aunt out of the kitchen and made some amazing meals together. Lots of story telling around the fire pit at night. I came home exhausted as I was also working but it was an amazing experience for the 4 of us to bond as we haven't in decades. Long story for another time.

I am preparing for another solo show at Galatea Fine Art in Boston. November. As in 3 months. So now I'm madly working again in the studio. Here is an example of an encaustic photo transfer. It's 5" square an the image is a photo I took in my aunt' house of curtains in my bedroom. She actually made these curtains. More about this later, too.