Tag Archives: life

Covering the walls…

Walls were meant to be covered…

When we moved into our house in 2008, I wanted art all over the walls. The art that I liked and appreciated. Sure, I had (even in 2008) a TON of my own stuff I could put on the walls, but that can get weird if it’s all you and no one else.

Lez didn’t care what I bought… she was more concerned with other things… rightly so. Even so, when I ordered prints of what I wanted, I made sure she knew what was coming.

The three prints I ordered were:

Picasso’s The Old Guitarist Hopper’s Nighthawks and this…

My plan was to hang all of these in the living room. That plan was altered.

Lauren (at the time she was 5 going on 6) was freaked out by the guitarist. He ended up in my small studio. The 50 Foot Woman was deemed not suitable for the living room. We “debated on that one for a while… with her ending up next to the guitarist in my studio. The Hopper painting was acceptable. That’s when she asked to see more work like that… Two scrolls later I purchased a print of Hopper’s Cape Cod Evening.

Lez liked it because there was a collie in it.  I liked it because it was a Hopper… and as mentioned before, at that time, I was just starting Grad school with plans to become the next Edward Hopper. Lez’s collie Lady was still with us and making my life interesting.

I’d always meant to do a painting of Lady for Lez… but just never got around to it. Not that I would do something like the Hopper, but just something.

Fast forward a decade plus two and the guitarist, Nighthawks and 50ft. woman have long been rolled up and stored. But the collie is still hanging in the living room… in the same spot I hung it in 2008.

For the last Hopper in the family series, I thought it would be appropriate to put Lez and Maggie in Cape Cod for the day. Maybe someday this image will hang in Lauren’s living room.

Categories: art painting

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Quitting our full-time, part-time job

Thursday, May 3, 2018 was a good day. 85 days before this pic was taken, we received the diagnosis I wouldn’t wish on anyone. To say that these weeks have been challenging is the understatement of understatements. Unless you’ve lived with it, you have no idea… I count myself as one of those who had no idea.

It’s cancer.

Not a cold.

Not a broken bone.

It’s f—ing cancer.

After the initial panic, depression, denial and anger, you realize that from diagnosis point on, you have a new roommate. They won’t chip in for the mortgage or groceries… they sure as hell won’t clean up after themselves.  They’re there.  They’re ALWAYS there.  It becomes your full-time part-time job to get them the hell out of your body and life.

That job, for lack of a better description, sucks.

  • Doctor appointment
  • Tests
  • Diagnosis
  • Tests
  • Appointments for tests
  • Surgery
  • Post-surgery
  • Pre-radiology
  • Oncology
  • Radiology
  • Mapping
  • Tests
  • Treatments

The order may have been a little different, but you get the idea.  Any one of the last 85 days can fall into one of these bullet points.  There was a space of about 7-10 days… in between the mapping and the first ration appointment where it felt like life felt more pre-diagnosis. As treatment number one came close, we remembered we still had that roommate to deal with.  But we dealt with it.  Lez, while feeling bent several times… never broke.  She came close.  I did too.

They don’t talk much about the bending or breaking part in any of those appointments. Everyone bends differently.  Some break.

From beginning to end, the medical teams we’ve dealt with have been outstanding. Outstanding. Lez and I would like to extend a special thanks to the doctors, nurses, techs and staff at Radiation/Oncology of Upstate Cancer Center in Oneida. Especially Lisa and Rachel.  They made the daily treatments bearable… for both me and Lez. All the state-of-the-art medical technology in the world at your fingertips is great… but no technology can do what a kind, genuine smile and feeling of safeness can. They’re damn good at what they do. Doctors and surgeons may get all the glory… and justifiably.  But, they can only do what they do with help from outstanding nurses and outstanding support staff.  Period.

I’m not just saying that because my mother has been a nurse for 40+ years. It’s just a fact.

So we start May 4 by taking a different type of breath. A good breath.  A breath not attached by my counting the days since diagnosis or number of treatments remaining.

And by the way… Lauren?  Whatever we did right with that kid I hope we keep doing.  She’s been another rock for us. Whatever that kid ends up doing in life she’ll be unbelievably amazing at it.

My family, Lez’s family (especially Art and Roxanne) all of our friends and every single fan of Bob the Squirrel… thank you for your support and concern.  Lez and I will be pricing storage facilities this weekend to have a place to keep all the good vibes, thoughts and prayers sent our way.

Lez will never be the same. Even though the roommate has been evicted, you never know if or when it’ll come knocking again.  We can’t live our lives waiting for that knock.

We just live.

Thank you all again.

 

 

Categories: announcements cancer life

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Better than a museum

Apologies on the lack of updates.  Breast cancer treatment becomes a part-time job very quickly.

This week’s strip go into Lez’s daily radiation treatments. Lez started treatments on April 9.  She is set to have 19 total.  Five days a week.  Like I said, part-time job.  The first five were rough.  Her skin was burning, not on fire, more like an uncomfortable sunburn. We were told that after the treatment, she’d feel fatigued.  That was totally accurate.  After treatment on the first day, I took her back to work.  She wanted to see if she could do it.  She couldn’t.  She was home less than an hour later and slept for two.

But, we got into a groove… growing accustomed to the weekday cut up by treatment.  Yesterday was treatment #13… the home stretch is within sight.

Lez let the Radiology office know that I was doing strips with them in the background this week.  They loved it so much they printed them out and taped them to the patient welcome window. (See image)

As a cartoonist, anytime anyone loves your stuff enough to cut it out and tape, tack or staple it to a wall, window, refrigerator or bulletin board… it’s a good feeling.  To me, it’s better than if my stuff were hanging in a museum.  The people who see those day after day are the people I’m writing about.  They’re going through what my family is going through.  We’re them and they’re us.  It’s them in the strip.  How can that not be special?

What the nurses, doctors and staff at  Upstate Cancer Center – Oneida do can not be understated.  They save lives.  Day in and day out.  More importantly, they make us feel comfortable…despite the overall stress of the situation.  There’s always a smile.  They always help.  We cannot thank them enough.

Categories: art cancer

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