There are no days where the bulk of my thought processes are not somehow centered around the breast cancer in my body. Though none of us know the time or the place of our death (generally -- there are a few exceptions), I certainly have been thinking of my life with a newfound awareness of its tenuousness. If I die tomorrow (not of cancer -- just some random accident), I'm 98.9% content that I've lived the life I should have lived with the gifts, talents, place, time, and resources that have been entrusted to my care. That's not to say that my life is 98.9% perfect, just that I'm content. There are a few more thank yous to voice, a few debts to pay, a few more things to do, and a few places I would have liked to visit on this earth, but by and large, it's been a great life -- including the adversity. So when I die, preferably later rather than sooner, know that I was grateful for my time here, for my place, and especially for my people, including everyone reading this. Thank you!
With my time yesterday, one of the sweet good days between chemotherapy treatments, I painted. (Only two more chemos to go -- yay!) It's something that I've wanted to do since my chemotherapy induced alopecia started -- not only to document this incredibly personal event, but to take away some of the power it holds over my fragile ego. This feels like kind of a big deal.
It's 18" x 14" oil on linen.
